


On Prophecies

by NinaFey



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/F, I guess it counts as that?, Slow Burn, complete erasure of CS and OQ, in which all heterosexual fuckery is fixed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:21:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 66,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinaFey/pseuds/NinaFey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ll love again, Regina. So hard and burning that it will feel like all-consuming. It’ll be the strongest fire you have ever known.” Regina’s heart beat faster and stronger inside her chest, she would be free at last. One day. She’d know love again. “There is more. A princess by the line of King Leopold will be your undoing. This is all I know.”<br/>---------------------------------------<br/>"[...]A queen, beautiful, sad, and angry will be…”</p><p>“OK, see that’s where you lost me. The only queen I’ll be meeting any time soon is Dairy Queen and that cow looks plenty happy to me…”</p><p>                                                   ---------------------------------------<br/>AU. Regina is driven by a prophecy she heard in her youth. Emma chooses to ignore hers. Mentions of child abuse and implied marital rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruja

“This won’t do.” Her mother said while staring at the tip of Regina’s fingers.  Her tone was severe in that way made her daughter’s heart beat just a little faster.

“What won’t do, mamá?” She asked, even if she knew the answer would be hurtful.

“The color of your fingertips. It’s too dark, just like that of your knuckles. It betrays your origins.”

“Is that bad?” Six years old and Regina already knew when to be afraid.

“Don’t be silly, Regina.” Cora paused for a second, as if to catch her breath, maybe she was enjoying herself. “Of course it’s bad. Everyone at this new kingdom will know you don’t belong. Just like your father.”

“But mi papá is a prince.”

“That hardly matters anymore.” Her tone grew bitter. “Now, hush. The road has made me tired.”

Regina closed her eyes and pretended to sleep until the click of the horses’ hooves and the rough movements of the carriage lulled her into a real yet restless sleep.

* * *

 

“Would you be so kind to pass the es-ca-LLOPS- ?” A hard hand met Regina’s face. She had mastered the new kingdom’s language excellently, her papá certainly thought so but it was not enough for her mother. She wanted Regina to be free of any accent, to speak as if she hadn’t been born in a faraway kingdom where it never snowed.

“SSSSSS-callops, girl! There is no ‘e’ in it! When will you learn?! A peasant has a better tongue than you do.” Regina knew better than to rub her sore cheek and instead opted for wearing the redness on her face bravely.

An hour later, she forgot to watch herself and pronounced ‘yes’ with a hard y. Cora used the heavy volume she had been holding to smack her. Regina’s upper lip split and bled and bled, and her mother let the blood run down her face and ruin her dress.

“Perhaps you ought to keep its scar as a reminder, dear.” Her mother poked at the trail of blood, and for a moment Regina thought she’d taste it. “Yes, I think you will.”

It was the night before her eighth birthday.

* * *

 

It was a summer day, hot enough to remind Regina of home. She didn’t mind the sweat running down her back or the way her dark hair curled into a mess. Her feet were splashing the fresh water of a lake she and her hand-maiden, Lourdes, had found. Nothing mattered but the freshness of the water and Lourdes’s sweet laughter as some of the splashing water hit her. They were fourteen and life had never felt this peaceful. Regina could not recall when the last time her cheeks ached from grinning was. 

Lourdes was kind and quiet, her papá had made sure that her hand-maiden was from their old kingdom. Her mother allowed it, for no other reason that Lourdes would be a servant and it would still uphold the image she so desperately wanted to project. Lourdes’s brown skin glowed under the sun, happy to be meeting it again. Her black hair was curly in mesmerizing ways, no one in this kingdom had hair like hers. It got longer when wet and formed a delicate bun when tied. Lourdes was her friend. Regina could speak her mother tongue freely with her. Scrunch up her nose and let her voice and laugh go into unrefined pitches. Lourdes was her only friend. Regina wondered if this what happiness felt like.

She liked the way Lourdes’s dress fit around her waist, loved watching the way her lips curled around the words of their shared language, how it felt warm down in her belly when the R in her name was rolled with such strength and confidence, that was the proper way to pronounce her name, Regina knew. But she liked best those moments when their dark eyes met and their hands linked. Watching her, as she usually did, Regina wondered what a kiss would feel like. She drew her face closer to her friend’s and brushed her lips with hers before truly kissing her. Lourdes was the first to pull back and look at her with those big eyes.

“Regina…if” Lourdes began.

“Can we just have this, please?” She didn’t realize she was pleading with her friend. “It’s just us. Nothing will seem out of place…”

“I am your hand-maiden, after all. I go where you go.” There was something sad about Lourdes’s tone.

“If you don’t want to do this Lourdes…”

“No! _No es eso_.” She looked down at her lap. “I want this. If your mother were to find out…”

“She won’t. I promise” Regina hoped those words weren’t a lie.

Lourdes smiled before kissing her.

For three whole weeks they rode together to their lake and kissed under the protection of the canopy, three weeks when Regina felt strong and happy in ways she hadn’t known before. The way a good and precious secret makes one feel; something and someone was finally and solely hers. But then, on a hot July morning she found a pale looking girl with thin straw colored hair waiting to dress her for the day. Regina did not even need to ask to know what had happened yet her mother told her with immense pleasure.

“Lourdes came to me last night. Poor girl, in tears, begged me to be sent back to the old kingdom. Said she could no longer stand to be here. Does that surprise you, dear?”

  
“No, mamá. It does not.” She did not flinch as the nameless girl tightened her corset. “I expected as much.” Her tone was defiant but Regina did not much care or think her mother would mind in this instance. She might actually enjoy it.

“There’s a good girl.” Cora gently patted her face. Regina did not know if it was meant to be a reward or a threat.

She cried herself to sleep for a whole month.

* * *

 

It had been a year and a half since her wedding to King Leopold. A year and half locked away in one of the castle’s wings, wishing her mother had taken her heart along with Daniel’s. Regina had never ached in this way; her bones burned and her stomach always felt empty. Her nights were sleepless and full of tears. Those when she had to endure King Leopold’s visits were later spent in her bathtub, desperately trying to wash him off her body. Regina could barely look at Snow White without feeling sick to her stomach and feel the heat of anger coursing through her spine. She had to keep herself from shaking when the eleven year old hugged her waist and clung to her as if she’d never let go. Caged birds were allowed more dignity, at least they were allowed to sing.

There was a big feast tonight and the young Queen was expected to attend, no matter how ill that title still suited her. Regina already knew she wouldn’t be touching her food but drink plenty of wine from her golden goblet. No one would be there to see her, a smile or two when by the side of the King when the feast began would be needed and no more.  And for the most part, she was proven right. The bravest knights delighted the King with their stories, the poets recited a few verses here and there for Snow White, and the musicians were applauded after a piece or two. The King and his daughter were in good spirits, while she still felt her weakened heart beat miserably under her rib cage. That is until she heard two young girl servants say the word _bruja_ in a hushed voice and improper pronunciation but nevertheless…it was her language. However, her curiosity did not aid her in hearing their whole conversation. The woods were mentioned in passing and a payment of some kind but nothing more.

Suddenly she grew impatient and wanted the feast to end at all costs. But there was nothing she could do but graciously wait for the King to give everyone their leave. Regina practically ran to her chambers, desperately wanting to get back for the first time. She needed to speak with her handmaidens about this _bruja._ Surely, if two servants knew they all knew. Gossip traveled quickly in the castle; she knew by the sympathetic looks she got from every working woman in the castle the mornings after the King’s visits.

Bessie and Sarah were undoing her dress as gently as they could while Olivia prepared her bath with the usual salts.

“I need to know something.” Regina declared, hoping there was enough authority in her voice.

“Yes, Your Majesty?” Replied Bessie

“I heard two girls whispering today at the feast. They mentioned the word _bruja_ and the woods. I want to know what this is about.” Regina watched Bessie and Sarah exchange a glance and she heard Olivia pause in the wash room. “It’s nothing serious. I am simply curious, so be truthful now.”

“Well, Your Majesty. It’s the name of an old woman who lives in the far East corner of the Bear’s Woods.” Sarah told her quietly. Regina did nothing correct Sarah about the woman’s name. “Rumor is she is from your old Kingdom, Your Majesty.” She was being bold and Regina appreciated her for that.

“What’s so special about her?”

“She has magic, Your Majesty.” Olivia ventured into the conversation.

“What kind of magic?” She turned to face Olivia and Bessie and Sarah readjusted their positions accordingly.

“All kinds, Your Majesty.”

* * *

 

For two weeks, Regina and her handmaidens devised a way for her to escape for a day visit to the _bruja’s_ place. Bessie who was favoured by one of the King’s guards suggested to him the idea that a bout of fresh air would do the Queen some good who in turn whispered it in the ear of the King’s most trusted adviser. The King feeling indifferent about Regina’s well-being agreed to the idea without too much thought. By some grace, they were allowed to leave unaccompanied and they rode until they reached the place. It was a shack, hastily put together with stones and wood. Regina grew skeptical of the woman’s capabilities, as anyone in possession of magic could certainly build herself a better place to live. But she had come this far, she would go in and meet her at any cost. The thought of magic and someone from her old kingdom was too much to pass.

“Wait for me here.” She ordered the three other women. Regina had trusted them enough to get her to the old woman but not enough to let them go in with her and listen to the words that would exchange in a tongue foreign to them.

Regina walked towards the door but before she could knock, the door opened in a heavy swing.

“I wondered when you’d come, niña.” The woman told her in their native tongue. “Come in, come in, before you make your servants more suspicious of you.”

Regina followed silently, too dumbstruck to say anything and closed the door behind her.

“You were expecting me? Why?” She asked after the shock had worn off.

“It was only a matter of time. It’s not every day a young woman is sold to a King. Or maybe it is, I don’t know.” The woman replied quietly. She was short, her skin brown and wrinkled around the eyes and hands. Her greying hair was tied into a long braid. This woman was the exact opposite of what her mother had striven to be and what she so strongly despised. Of course Regina was taken.

“I don’t understand your answer, I’m afraid.”

“Sit first, niña. You’ve been riding all day. Have some honey cake. You look as pale as the moon’s backside and I won’t be having the Queen faint in my kitchen." The woman watched as Regina blushed and did as she was told. After she was certain she’d eaten, she poured her Jamaica in a wooden cup, which Regina drank eagerly.  “You’re caged. And what caged being doesn’t long to know if it’ll ever be free?”

“And will I?” Regina tried to temper the sadness in her voice.

“Not while you are married, no.” The woman replied pouring herself a strong and aromatic coffee.

Regina had experience hiding pain and fighting tears so she quietly asked “How do you know this?”

“My magic, our people’s magic I mean. It allows me to see some of the future. I happened upon yours completely by accident.”

“I see.” She said firmly, as if it was all making perfect sense to her. “Could you see more?”

“If you want me to. But be warned niña, sometimes knowing the future can greatly harm our present.” The woman told her solemnly.

“Señora, I don’t think my present can get any worse. Please.”

“Just remember, I did warn you, mi Reina.” She left her seat and lit differently colored candles, rubbed some oil on her hands and on Regina’s. The young queen expected for cards to be drawn out, but instead the woman held her hands in her own and asked her to close her eyes.

A strange feeling coursed through Regina, it was warm and vaguely uncomfortable and her head felt light as if she had had too much wine. After what seemed like an hour, the woman released her from her grip, sweat dripping down her forehead.

  
“You’ll love again, Regina. So hard and burning that it will feel like all-consuming. It’ll be the strongest fire you have ever known.” Regina’s heart beat faster and stronger inside her chest, she would be free at last. One day. She’d know love again. “There is more. A princess by the line of King Leopold will be your undoing. This is all I know.”

“What does that mean?!” Regina asked abruptly leaving her seat.

“I don’t know, niña. The future and its readings have a will of their own. They only let me see what they think necessary to make it come to pass.”

“How frustrating” She added with huff.

“Life is supposed to be. And it has a way of getting what it wants.” The old woman got up to pour herself more coffee and wrap a few vials into a rough looking cloth. “Do what you will with what I’ve given you, but the course of the future should not be fought, Your Majesty.”

“Yes, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Regina tried to sound compose but doubted the old woman believed any of it. “My hand-maidens mentioned you requiring payment of some sort.” She suddenly wished to be alone in her chambers to consider what she had learned.

“No payment necessary for la Reina. I just ask that if you should feel curious about magic again you come to me just like you did now.”

“I will. I promise.” Regina thought it a strange thing to ask from her but the promise was an easy to make and keep.

The old woman placed the wrapped vials in her hands and Regina felt her hands' roughness and dryness. “What is this?”

“To keep the King’s heirs from ever growing inside you. Three drops the morning after he’s been with you should suffice.” Regina pressed her own smooth hands on the old woman’s touched beyond words. She simply nodded, not knowing how to thank her.  “Now go, before esos payulos wonder why the Queen has been gone for so long.”

“Yes, Yes.” Regina responded as she headed out the door. “I’ll come back.”

“I hope so.”

Regina rode back hard, feeling her horse’s hooves hit the ground with great strength and not really minding that her hand-maidens were failing to keep up with her speed. She was equally elated and concerned about the old woman’s prophecy, but she had a future, she would be free again. Now two questions remained, how to burn down her cage and what to do about the prophesied princess.

 

 

 


	2. Brown slush and a sunhat

The t-shirt felt soft against her dry skin. Emma liked the feel of it, it was three sizes too big for her, it had some sort of fading drawing on it and it smelled like cheap soap but it was hers. She’d gotten it on a Christmas raffle last year and it was too ugly and grey for any of the older kids to try and steal from her. It was her favourite thing. Emma felt a strong tug from behind her followed by a rough push that made her scrape her bare knees on the pavement.  Emma didn’t have to look up to know who it was that pushed her. Eddie Carmichael. Third grader, red hair, biggest kid in his class. Loved to pick on younger kids. Especially foster kids.

“Not gonna get up, Swan?” Emma knew better than to reply.

She picked herself up, fighting her tears and her stinging knees and faced him.

“Gonna run and tell mommy? Oh wait, you don’t have one. Who would want a street rat like you?” And that’s the thing that set her off. She jumped on Eddie’s fat and pale body and started pounding on him and he screamed like the wimp she knew he was. He managed to lock her into a tight position but that’s when she bit him. Hard. She didn’t stop biting until she felt something that tasted like a bubblegum wrapper in her mouth. It was blood. Eddie yelped in pain and released her and she ran all the way to the community center and washed herself. Emma couldn’t go home looking like that. Alone, and barely able to reach the sink in the lady’s toilet she realized that her shirt was torn. And she cried behind a closed door sitting on a toilet.

Two days later Mrs. O’Hara told Emma that she’d be going back to the center while they found her a new place to stay. She couldn’t have a fighting urchin like her in her house. It was a nice house and the Carmichaels were nice people and she would do well to be grateful next time she was in a house as nice as hers. Emma was 7 going on 8 and this had been her 5th home.

* * *

 

She didn’t know how to behave, walking to her currents neighbour’s house. Trailing behind Mrs. Stewart and two other foster kids, Michael and Jessica. They were okay but Emma knew better than to get attached. All her stuff fit into an old Jansport she got from a foster brother a year ago and she barely spoke. She’d been called moody for a thirteen year old. Emma had been called many things. But today was a strange day, the neighbour’s sister had died. It was her wake. Emma thought her name had been Daniela, but she couldn’t be sure. All she knew that this was the Rodríguez’s house and that she should be on her best behaviour. Whatever the hell that meant.  Emma thought it was funny Mrs. Stewart was walking over with a casserole over to the Rodríguez’s and bringing them along considering she had heard her more than once refer to them as ‘beaners’ and complained on the phone to her sister how the old neighbourhood had gone to the dogs now that more and more spicks were moving in. But Emma knew better than to voice any of these things.  She just did as she was told.

The Rodríguez house was very different from Mrs. Stewart’s, even if they were both technically the same house. Almost all the furniture was wooden, there were photos everywhere, and it was busy. Very busy. Mrs. Stewart ordered her to stay put in a corner as she took Michael and Jessica to do the rounds with her, they looked more presentable and well-fed, Emma supposed. She, with her over-sized flannel over a black Zeppelin t-shirt and messy blonde curls wasn’t exactly tidy looking. So in her corner she stayed, people watching and taking note of the tiny details that made up the household. Judging by the amount of people currently in the living room, they were big and tightly-knit family. Mrs. Rodríguez had burst into tears and dropped herself on the couch while her daughters held her tightly. The older one sobbed right alongside her and while the younger girl kept her face calm and unreadable. She was fourteen, Emma thought. She had seen around the block, riding her bike from Catholic school. Backpack heavy with books and sweat dripping down her forehead, and her uniform a mess but she held the same expression then as she did now. She looked strong and determined to keep that up. For a moment the girl looked up at the ceiling as if gathering her strength to fight back the tears and with a gentle sigh brought her gaze back down and settled on Emma. Her stomach fluttered at the realization that she had been caught staring and she quickly shifted her eyes to a huge flower arrangement on the coffee table. But Emma could still feel the girl’s eyes on her and so she left the room and opted for the empty backyard.  Mrs. Stewart wouldn’t mind, well she wouldn’t mind too much. There was an old swing and Emma plopped herself on it, content to be kicking the pebbles that hit her sneakers away. It was a relief to not have to look up or even hear anyone’s cries. Emma had never lost anyone and she supposed she never would. Can’t lose something you never had in the first place.

Without Emma taking notice, someone dropped in the swing next to her. She felt her stomach jump realizing it was the strong and calm Rodríguez girl.

“Emma, right?” She said casually. Emma was surprised she knew her name and embarrassed she didn’t know hers.

“Yeah. Emma. Swan.” Emma added somewhat stupidly.

“That’s a hell of a lot better than Stewart.” She added lowly and looking at the house. “I’m Isa.”

“Cool name.” Emma replied awkwardly and suddenly feeling smaller in her clothes.

“It’s Isabel but I kind of hate it. So…Isa it is.”

“Suits you better, I think.” Emma told her before she could stop herself and looked away when she felt herself blushing.

The conversation carried on, neither saying too much about themselves. Emma snuck small peaks at Isa. She had straight black hair resting on her shoulders, her eyes were the color of honey and Emma own skin looked ghostly compared to Isa’s glowing brown skin. Emma found herself pulling on the sleeves of her flannel to cover up her inadequacy.

“You’re living with Mrs. Stewart.” Isa said, it was a polite way to call her a her foster kid. Emma nodded. “How is that?”

Emma shrugged. “It’s clean.”

Isa laughed at this. “Yeah, she’s a bitch. Don’t know what she’s doing here. I’m pretty sure I heard her refer to us as’ the Mexicans.’ Guess we brown people are all Mexican for racist old bats.” She sounded calm and Emma understood that it was anger that fuelled her strength. “Sorry. I said too much.”

“Nah. It’s OK. She _is_ a racist old bat.” Emma kicked another pebble. “Her casserole is gross. So don’t try it.”

“Thanks. Honestly, my aunt would have hated her being here.” Isa laid back against the wooden swing. “Probably would have pretended she didn’t speak any English and slammed the door in her face. I think she might have done that once or twice. She was always asking my mom why she put up with her kind.”

“Maybe your mom’s too nice.” Emma suspected this a white lie but she didn’t know what else to say.

“No, that’s not it.” She said quietly. “Either way, I should get over it.”

“Only if you feel like it. Sometimes you need to hold on to things.” Isa looked at her and Emma felt her face and chest grow hot. “Or whatever. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Isa didn’t reply this time, she simply leaned forward and kissed Emma. And Emma feeling Isa’s warmth just melted into the kiss. She let Isa run her fingers through her tangled hair and hers just slid through silky dark one.

“Isa!” Emma heard Isa’s older sister exclaim. She used quick Spanish, which Emma understood to be mean as Isa quickly got up with another word and ran past her sister. To her horror, however, Mrs. Stewart standing there looking at her with disgust. Emma already knew what was coming, a nasty name thrown at her and someone from the youth center picking her up in a day or so. So she too ran past Isa’s older sister and Mrs. Stewart and went back to the house to pack her stuff into her Jansport along with all the food the bag could take, sanitary pads, and some soap. She knew she’d never see Isa again. She shouldn’t be sad, she couldn’t lose something that was never hers but she couldn’t help the ache in her chest.

* * *

 

The cell was cold, even under the two blankets the guards had given her. They took pity on her, as did the warden. Eighteen year old kid made into a patsy and pregnant with the bastard’s baby. This is what got her an extra blanket, library duties and no cell mate for the duration of her pregnancy. Emma was huge, bigger than she thought she would at this point. Her back ached and she was sure her feet had grown, but none of this mattered today. Emma had been told she was having a son, and he was living a healthy life inside her womb. He was hers as long as she held him within her, hers as long as he could feel his tiny feet kick her stomach. He wouldn’t be hers as soon the doctors pulled him out into the world. He would belong to someone else, she hoped, to another mother. A mother who could spoil him and squeeze his lungs out from her tight she hugged him. Emma wished for her son to have a different life.

She loved the kid swimming around in her, turning her insides to mush. Emma realized that this was the first (almost) person she truly loved. Neal, sure she had loved him. He felt like home; the bug and the semi-occupied motel rooms felt warm and safe. He was the first to ever care for her, or she had thought. ‘Idiot.’ That’s the word that kept running through her mind as she stared at her cell walls every night. Emma had fallen for the first person that showed her affection and gave herself to him wholeheartedly and he just ran, ran with everything she had and left her to fall into a shithole. That couldn’t be love, it couldn’t be true love. And she hated Neal for making her believe it had been.

* * *

 

Brown slush covered the pavement Emma almost stumbled onto. The bar tender had cut her off and she’d punched a guy square in the face after calling her ‘a hot piece of white trash’. Shithead. But it was only fair she’d be kicked out for being a drunk asshole. But hey, she only got wasted once a year. Today her kid was turning four and he was out, somewhere in the world. Maybe he had a mother, maybe he was in some craphole owned by parasites who kept him around to cash a cheque. She didn’t know, so Emma drank to that. Three beers for the life she couldn’t give him and 4 tequila shots for the life he led without her.

Emma didn’t get very far in her quest to get back into the bug and drive to her dingy apartment; she settled on a bench next to an old woman wearing two coats, sunglasses and a sunhat. Her drunk self snorted at the sight of it, disgusting frozen slush on the ground on a night like this and the woman was wearing a sunhat and sunglasses.

“Honey, you reek.” The woman told her turning to face her.

“Well, booze will do that to ya. Cheap booze especially.” Emma closed her leather jacket and pulled up her hoodie.

“No. You reek of sadness, loneliness. I could smell since before you left that bar. You lost someone, didn’t you?”

“What are you, some kind of psychic?” Emma snapped back.

“Of sorts.” The woman replied kindly and Emma suddenly felt guilty for her barking tone. “But, I’ll be quiet until you’re on your way.”

After a few minutes it was clear Emma was still unable to walk and much less drive. She sighed heavily and placed her hands under her thighs for warmth.

“My kid. Today’s his birthday. He’s not…he’s not with me. Never was.”

“But he’s with someone.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

“I would fucking hope so.”

“He is. Don’t be too worried about him, dear.” The woman scooted closer to her. “Let me see your hand.”

Hesitantly Emma pulled her hand from under her thigh and gave it to the old woman to hold.

“Strong and noble blood runs through your veins.”

“Ha, lady tell that to the assholes who abandoned me on the side of a highway.”

“Shh..you’ll break my concentration.”

“Well…OK.” Emma replied wondering how the hell she managed to get sucked into this conversation.

“You’ll get what you long for, I can tell you that right now. It won’t seem like it when you first encounter it but in the end you’ll be kicking yourself because of how stupid and blind you were the whole time.”

“Well that last part I do not doubt, lady.”

“I didn’t say you could talk. A queen, beautiful, sad, and angry will be…”

“OK, see that’s where you lost me. The only queen I’ll be meeting any time soon is Dairy Queen and that cow looks plenty happy to me…”

“If you had just let me finish I could have made this sadness you feel go away.” At this Emma softened.

“Look, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But there’s no grand or even regular sized future in store for me. And I’m learning to be OK with that. No beautiful queens or happy endings for me. And that’s fine. That’s life.” Emma told her getting up as an air of sobriety hit her.

“If that’s what you want to believe, honey. But it will happen regardless. Life’s funny that way.”

“Maybe.” Emma reached into her jean’s back pocket and pulled out a ten dollar bill. “Here.”

“What’s this for?” She asked without taking the bill.

“I know what it’s like sleeping rough. Just take it.” Seeing the woman wasn’t taking it Emma pushed harder “Think of it was a fee for telling me my future.”

“Only if you promise to remember what I’ve told you.”

“I can’t make any solid promises with Jose Cuervo inside me, but yes, I’ll remember.” The woman finally took the bill and stashed it into one of her coats’ pockets.

“Have a good night, honey.”

“Aha, stay warm lady. Thanks for the prophecy.” Emma walked away thinking of dark haired queens and craving ice cream. She laughed a throaty laugh as she got into the bug knowing full well she was heading nowhere in this life but back to her cheap and empty apartment.

 

 


	3. Peasant magic

There was thick mud on the ground, the rain was falling hard on the ground and the winds blew harshly on the trees. Regina, a lone rider, going off road towards the Bear’s Woods was enjoying the wetness of her cloak and the way the mud was ruining her leather boots. She had come to love stormy days like this one, they provided the perfect opportunity for the Queen escaping her chambers at the crack of dawn and returning under the cover of darkness.  The King, her hand-maidens had told her, absolutely despised such days. He would use storms to hold council meetings by the roaring fire place and end up in bed exhausted. They assured her that Snow would be sufficiently busy with nobles’ daughters and took such occasions for ball planning. The Queen’s absence would be noticed by no one.  Regina left the castles through its many crooks and hidden passages until finally arriving to meet Rocinante and ride to a cabin filled with odors from her old kingdom and her people’s magic.

Regina had learned enough over the past few months to keep the wind and rain out of her eyes and keep herself warm inside her clothes. She could now, too, smell and feel the magic floating around in the air, but she wanted to grow stronger still. Yes, she was curious about magic but her determination to reclaim her life was greater. Her mother, she knew, possessed magic. Dangerous, manipulative, and dark. Silently, the Queen made herself promise that she’d never become anything like her. Regina swore to herself over and over that she would learn enough to destroy her cage, and hopefully, avoid the latter part of the prophecy. It had been an ecstatic feeling to know that she would love again and fiercely, to know that it would surpass everything she had ever felt. But it was troubling to know that there was some sort of “undoing” by a princess waiting in her future. However ambiguous the prophecy had been, Regina had decided the princess to be Snow White. How could it be anyone else? The thought lied at the back of her mind, waking her up in the middle of the night or keeping her from eating her ham in the morning. Anger and fear pulsated through her veins whenever she laid eyes on Snow.  It was becoming an obsession, she knew. But at the present, Regina would focus on her magic. Use it well, and the prophecy need not come true. Grow strong and never worry about it again.

At last, she arrived at the cabin in the Bear’s Woods. As it had become her custom, Tibiche opened her door as Regina led Rocinante to makeshift stable Tibiche had made her set up as part of a “lesson”. 

“You leave those dirty boots outside my home, niña. I’m an old woman and don’t need to be cleaning up after untidy young queens.” She told her without a second thought.

“Yes, Tibiche. We both know how old you are. And I’m hardly untidy.” Regina said with a huff as she gently removed her boots neatly rolled her woollen socks into balls and walked on bare feet into the cabin.  “What do you have cooking on the stove?” She asked hearing her stomach complain from the morning’s journey.

“Ayay. Don’t tell me the castle has run out of food.” Tibiche replied but served her a healthy helping of eggs with red sauce, fried red beans, plantains and two corn tortillas while pouring into her a cup strong black coffee. These were all things the old woman grew in the woods with the aid of magic.

“You know it’s not the same.” Regina told her wanting to ravish the food but consumed with all the grace and etiquette that had been beaten into her.

“Eh. Eat, mi Reina. Estas bien flaca, skin and bones.” She sat facing her as thin smoke from the wood oven filled up the place. “Keep it up and your ass will go.”

Regina almost chocked on her coffee “Tibiche!”

“Pfft. It’s true. Finish up your meal. You’ll need your energy.”

“Oh? What are we doing today?” There was excitement in her voice.

“You’ll see.” For such a brazen old woman she certainly loved her mystery.

* * *

 

The old woman had been right, Regina sat on the floor absolutely drained of all energy. She had expected to trek the entire woods for some herbs or even Tibiche having her climb the tallest tree on the tallest mountain. Instead, she had her lie practically nude on a petate after forcing her to drink a distasteful brew of leaves and herbs. Slowly but surely, she felt herself drift off to a different place, her eyes wide open and fixed upon the cabin’s ceiling. Regina felt the small drops of sweat rolling down her back and mixing with the bejuco under her back and later that’s all she was, feelings. The rain outside suddenly prickled her skin and the rocky and muddy ground pinched her feet, the wind ran through her fingers. She did not stop to think how impossible it all seemed and felt; it was as if she was a part of everything and everything was a part of her. There was no separation between the young Queen who came from the Kingdom of the Proud Moon and the hare that lay hidden in the woods and the spores that had been carried away by the wind. But just as soon as Regina had begun to comprehend what was happening she felt herself being thrown against the floor and jolting up having trouble getting air into her lungs.

“What…”

“Shhh..don’t speak. Or your soul will separate again and that won’t be pleasant.” Tibiche handed her a woollen blanket which Regina gratefully wrapped around herself. All the heat had left her body.  At the old woman’s request, she merely nodded and stared at her, expecting an explanation.

“Magic, Regina, is about emotions.” She told her as she poured herself another cup of coffee. Regina could tell it was nearly dusk and she became disoriented. “It’s about understanding them, knowing when to control them and when to let them flow through you. It’s also about learning about your place in the universe. How big or small you are, no importa. You’re still part of something greater than the sum of its parts.”

The young Queen could only listen in silent awe, suddenly wondering where Tibiche had learned all this. Who had taught her and why she was teaching it to her? The old woman had been expelled from the Kingdom of the Proud Moon many years ago, that much she knew. Her residence in the Bear’s Woods had been forced upon her much like her own marriage to the King. Tibiche still worshipped the Proud Moon Goddess, patron of their Kingdom. A small shrine to her stood proud outside in a place where the moon shone its brightest. But anything beyond those details, the short old woman and her graying hair were an enigma.

“You know why your soul slammed itself into your body so violently? Why you’re exhausted, cold and in pain now?” The old woman sounded almost sad. Regina shook her head.

“Anger. Hatred. It courses through you like your own blood. It’s not good for the soul. It’s harder to commute with the world like that.” Regina took the bowl of rice, beans and chicken she offered her. “It is not yet stronger than the hope and goodness you harbour. But if you let it, it will become impossible to do what you just did.”

Regina looked down at her food in contemplation and took the first bite in shame; she wanted to say she wanted to be better but she didn’t know how. She wanted to tell her teacher that it was anger that helped her survive, that which kept her strong and able to put up with life as a captive bird. Instead she simply nodded and ate her food in silence.

Tibiche let her get dressed and then served her coca tea to replenish her strength and allow a safe return to the castle.

“No magic for the whole week, _niña_. Starting now. You’re drained.” Tibiche barely reached Regina’s legs as she sat on Rocinante’s strong back.

“But it’s cold tonight!”

“It builds character, my Queen.” She laughed. “Use magic to keep yourself warm and you’ll fall off that beast and land flat on your ass.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll just freeze to death on my way to the castle.”

“ _No seas necia._ I know why I’m telling you this. A week, girl. Remember.”

“All right. Being told twice is enough emphasis for me. I won’t do magic for a week.” Tibiche eyed her suspiciously. “Starting now.”

“Good. Now go before it gets too dark.”

Rocinante practically did all the work for Regina and she was grateful for it, her faithful steed ceased to gallop outside an abandoned tunnel she used to get inside the castle walls. She fed him one of the ripe apples she always kept in her bag and bid him farewell. After Regina had made her way through the passageways and crooks of the castle and into her chambers it nearing midnight and all she wanted to do was collapse upon her bed. Instead Bessie, Sarah, and Olivia were waiting for her, too dutifully, Regina noticed.

“Would Her Majesty be needing help out of her riding gear?” Bessie asked.

Regina, though well aware of her state, did not want to move another inch for the rest of the night. “Not tonight, thank you. You may all retire.” She dropped on her bed, the only things removed were her boots and cloak.

“Your Majesty, there is one thing you must know.” Sarah said timidly

“Yes, what is it Sarah?” Regina could feel her eyes closing even as she spoke.

“A letter came for Her Majesty while she was out.” At this Regina sat up, forgetting the exhaustion she felt. Only her parents wrote her letters but her father had written to her just two days ago. This was a letter from her mother, it had to be. Olivia handed her the sealed envelope, no doubt, it was her mother’s seal. With her heart beating furiously in her chest, Regina tore it open and quickly read its contents. Her mother was set to arrive in a day’s time to visit the Royal Castle and expected her daughter, the Queen, to give her a regal welcome. The letter was soon tossed aside and Regina got on her feet.

“Olivia, please prepare my bath salts.” The young Queen ordered pushing her weariness aside. “Bessie, Sarah, I will be needing help out of these clothes after all.” Not a single inch of her skin must be unclean in case her mother arrived earlier than expected. “Please be sure to ready my best gowns are ready for tomorrow. Tell the cooks to prepare goose and boar, and that the best wines and champagne should be brought out of the vault.” Regina was determined to use what little authority she had in the castle to make her mother’s visit tolerable. “Tell them the Queen’s mother is coming to visit her Royal Highness.”

“Would the Princess Snow White be joining Her Majesty?”

Regina gave some thought and with that hot and unhealthy feeling at the pit of her stomach she replied “Yes, of course. The Princess should be included in all royal gatherings.” She should at least try to let go of her resentment; this could be a start. Besides, she needn’t start rumors about her relationship with the Crown Princess.

Once alone in the darkness of her chambers and her skin and hair scrubbed clean of any filth, Regina sighed. Tibiche knew somehow, she knew her mother would be able to smell her magic on her. The old woman was trying to keep her safe in every way she knew how. With fear gnawing at her, she finally lost consciousness and a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

Time seemed to drag between her mother’s insincere smiles and severe eyes and Snow White’s courteous chuckles and overly affectionate gestures. Her mother feigned interest in the Crown Princess’s ball preparations, tales about her daily conversations with songbirds, and her perfected dance steps. Regina knew that while her teeth were bared in Snow’s direction her gaze was firmly planted on her, burning all the way through her core.  It was nightmarish scenario, she felt like the child she had once been, wetting herself in fear of her mother’s hand but this time there was no papá with outstretched arms, she was trapped with her jailor, warden and torturer. There had been a moment before dinner when Snow had grabbed her hand and her mother wrapped her arm around her waist in which she thought she’d drop dead from her turmoil. It was a mockery of a happy family and how she felt hatred and anger boiling within herself. How dare they suggest to any onlooker that her wretchedness was familial bliss?

“Will His Majesty be joining us for dinner?” Her mother asked before they were settled at the banquet hall. It was a rhetorical question simply meant to point out his absence.

“No, mother. King Leopold is busy with council matters. Unsatisfied peasants and demanding merchants, you understand of course.” Regina congratulated herself on her composure. “He will be taking his dinner in the council room, along with his advisers and Lords.”

“I see.” She said carefully sipping soup from a silver spoon.

“Father is always so busy, isn’t he, stepmother?” Snow asked and Regina nodded. “He is too good, though. He always makes time for me.”

“Is that so, Princess?” Cora asked eyes fixed on her daughter as a snake’s on her prey.

“Yes, it is. He has taken me on trips to different parts of the Kingdom, he says I should learn about it for one day I will rule over everything.” Snow was practically leaping out of her chair in joy and the Queen could only resent the Princess’s freedom.

“His Majesty is certainly very wise, Princess.” Cora added with a tone so sweet it made Regina feel sick.

“That he is.” Regina added quietly.

“To King Leopold!” Snow exclaimed raising her glass, no doubt practicing for some future banquet.  Regina was obligated to raise her glass as was her mother and echo her sentiment.

“To the King.” The Queen said before emptying the contents of her glass. How wrong she had been to think her feelings towards the girl could improve on such a day.

* * *

 

Once a single yawn escaped from the Crown Princess’s lips Regina sent after her handmaidens to put her to bed, she did not know when her mask of grace and gentleness would break. However, that meant being alone with her mother in her rooms and she was not keen on it, but for what comforts can a prisoner ask?

“You disappoint your mother, Regina.” Cora told her in their privacy, her tone was a terrifyingly saccharine.

“Mother?” She asked with a voice so small she felt embarrassed of herself.

“You were born and bred to be QUEEN, Regina. And you let a simple child take your place!” Her mother honed in on her and Regina could smell her magic brewing inside her veins. It smelled like hay and burning metal. “Even the servants look at you with pity!”

“Snow White is the Crowned Princess, mother. There isn’t very much I can do. She is the heir to the King’s golden thrown, not I.” It was a weak appeasement but Regina could not argue otherwise.

“Foolish girl, your vision has always been so short sighted!” Cora’s magic was reaching the surface now and Regina could feel it the way she could feel the crackling of thunder.

“The King married me to raise his daughter, not to rule over his kingdom.” Her own anger was threatening to break the surface. “I don’t know what you expected when you sold me to him!” Those words were a mistake, she immediately learned as her mother’s magic pinned her to a wall.

“I did not raise myself from my father’s mill to have your lack of ambition and weakness ruin my hard work.” Her mother put her index finger under her chin to force her daughter to look upon her. “There is royal blood in you, of lower rank than that of Leopold’s and Snow White’s but there is some. It’s time for you to own up to it.”

Regina remained silent letting wrath gather inside her like a flame in a bonfire. Her eyes met her mothers and found her fear to be weaker than her rage.

“I won’t have your pathetic airs and weak…” Cora was not allowed to finish her sentence as she was thrown against the opposite wall.

“I am not weak!” Regina found herself shouting with sparks forming between her fingers.

Cora cackled as she got to her feet, if she had been shaken, Regina could not tell. Before the young Queen could get another word in she found herself immobilized and hovering the ground, angled so that her mother could grab her face.

“Maybe not entirely.” Cora slapped her face with restraint. “When did you cross paths with the Dark One? I would have thought you to be better at this having him as your master.”

“I don’t know who that is.” There was a slight defiance in her tone and Regina felt pride blooming inside her.  Her mother looked deeply into her eyes to determine if she could spot the lie in them and only found resistance layered over fear.

“Hmph…whoever awakened your potential is not very good, dear. Your magic smells sweet, of apples and cinnamon. “ She curled one of Regina’s errant strands of hair around her finger. “Peasant magic. Nothing to be taken seriously.” Cora pulled away from her abruptly leaving her to float in the very same spot. She walked towards the balcony and added “Or be proud of.”

Regina could not argue with her, as she was the unhappiness and emptiness in her life still remained. Magic brought her purpose and some power, but not yet to the extent she so desperately wanted, even if she had come to love the old woman who taught her. If she were being honest with herself, Regina was in no way closer to feeling love again and felt herself unraveling even more in the presence of Snow White. 

“I’ll come again, dear. I hope that next time I will have some semblance of a daughter I can call my own.” With swirl of black smoke, her mother was gone.

The young Queen dropped on the floor face first, her body aching all over. Regina’s mouth opened to let out a silent scream and angry tears rolled down her cheeks. How she wanted to burn everything down.

 


	4. Taco Muscle

Mornings were easy because they did not exist. Emma got to stretch out in her springy twin bed and hear workers outside bickering and drilling and she’d know it was past four in the afternoon. She’d crack one eye open and mumble to herself that she’d be up in forty minutes, no more no less. Her apartment was small and dark but it was as warm as she wanted it to be, she’d be damned if she ever went cold again. Emma didn’t earn much and she didn’t spend much. She was twenty three and her life was a series of things that were just fine. There wasn’t anything special about it, and that suited her. It who she was. Her shower was long and hot, she smiled at the sight of six weeks’ worth of hair on her legs. God bless winter and well-priced jeans. She got dressed to Springsteen and decided it was around time for food. With her stomach grumbling and a sigh escaping her Emma left keys in her hand and wallet in her coat jacket pocket. It would be a long time until she was back.

Food came in the form of three dollar tacos off the place in the corner; cheap and filling. The server never seemed to judge her taste in breakfast tacos at this hour or her choice to rot her teeth and kidneys with an extra-large cherry soda. Emma sat at the bar, minding her own business, when she saw another customer walk in. He was tall and dressed in whatever annoying trend people were keeping with these days and his beard was no doubt dyed red.  He reeked of weed, cheap beer and expensive cologne he thought would cover up the smell of a hangover. No doubt he was here for some mystical hangover food. Sure enough, an order of potato and carne asada loaded tacos came his way along with a tall glass of orange juice. The guy devoured his food and sprinted the hell out of the place leaving the server annoyed but not too surprised.

“Gringo cabrón!” She shouted at the cook working the grill in the back. “Didn’t you tell that fucker we don’t do credit?”

“What, Marta? Don’t tell me ese hijueputa ran out on the check again?!”

“That is EXACTLY what I’m telling you!” Marta turned around in exasperation. “This is your fault, Fofo!”

“How in the hell is it my fault?” He didn’t stop what he was doing to argue with Marta.

“YOU fed him for free that one time he came in with a black eye and stinking of tequila with that story of getting mugged on a night out.”

“Pfft…OK first off…”

“Whatever,” Marta cut him off “I’m telling Ramón about it and this’ll come out of your pay, not mine.” Fofo only grunted in response.

 Feeling it was OK to leave at that precise moment Emma quietly reached for the five bucks she kept in her front pocket and made sure Marta took notice of it.

“God, people are shit.” Emma mumbled to herself as she left the place.

* * *

 

Emma had killed her remaining hours til her shift smoking, telling herself she’d quit smoking, and walking alongside the river. Her mind jumped between reeling and standing still. Before she knew it, Emma had spent her free time on her feet and thinking about everything and nothing at all.  Work was an hour’s drive away and she needed to get going if she was to get there on time.

Of course she didn’t miss the irony of working the graveyard shift at an actual cemetery. Well, her boss called it that, when technically the job began at ten-thirty and not midnight. But she wasn’t about to argue for an extra hour and half worth of pay. Plus, the job was simple enough, make sure the lawn is watered, keep foxes away from any nice flower arrangements, keep creeps from graves, etc. Emma only worked with some other guy, Tino. He was quiet and kept as much distance as Emma kept from him and she liked him for it. Tino was around her age, a bit shorter than she was and his hair stuck up in a way that suggested to Emma that he had attempted to cut his own hair, but she said nothing. It suited him, along with his skinny arms and dark complexion.

The job would be a bit more gruelling tonight Joe, their boss, had told him handing them coffee in paper cup. They’d need to dig up two fresh graves in addition to their usual rounds. Nasty accident a day ago. The burial would be taking please as soon as the cemetery opened its doors and that’s all the details either of them wanted or needed. Emma got into the unwashed overalls and work boots she kept in the bug and tied her hair into a pony tail and readied herself for the night. Both she and Tino agreed that they’d dig the graves first and the rest would be put on hold. It’s not like they ever caught an actual creep ankles deep in dirt.

They worked back to back and Emma could hear Tino quietly hum a Bowie song, Heroes, she thought, but she would never think to join in. It felt like it would be an invasion of privacy, somehow she understood that he was not really there with her but somewhere else. It would not only be rude but downright crappy to deprive someone of a moment like that, so she kept on shovelling and the only sound coming from her side was metal hitting dirt.

“OK, I think it’s time for our break.” Emma said, cracking her back after being halfway done with the job.

“Yeah, I’d say so.” Tino laughed lightly. “It’s cold as balls too.”

They both climbed up the ladder he had thought to bring down as soon as the grave started getting deeper and headed towards a multi-use cabin. It was meant to fit in with the cemetery, making it the best looking and expensive shed Emma had ever seen. It’s where they usually took their breaks, together or apart.

He threw himself on a dusty old arm chair and a plastic bowl full of pasta. Emma could smell the bacon and expensive cheese he had used in it float towards her like they did in old cartoons; she was practically drooling.  Emma looked down at her own food, now looking pathetic in her hands. It was a store bought hot dog and cold and flaccid fries. Amazing pasta or not she’d eat the dog and the fries with dignity and slurp her coke trying to keep the envy off her eyes.

“Swan, you eat garbage. You know that, right?” Tino told her, breaking his usual comfortable silence.

Thrown off by his comment and suddenly protective of her life choices she replied “Great tasting garbage, though.”

“Ugh, please. I know you got at the gas station two miles down the road.” He said coolly taking a mouthful of his pasta. “No respect for your taste buds.”

“Got me there.” Emma admitted with a shrug. “Throw in complimentary fries and I’ll eat anything.” She wanted to ask what brought on this change in their relationship but Emma knew when to just let things flow.

“I’m pretty sure your arteries will clog in a few years or you’ll fall into a sugar coma if you keep it up.”

“Good thing I know someone who can dig my grave.” Emma thought it was just the right amount of smart-assery and proudly stuffed four fries into her mouth.

“You’re already doing a pretty good job of that.” Tino gave as good as he got.  Emma smiled finding herself at ease with him.

They went back to finish the job a good twenty minutes later and this time he didn’t hum and Emma didn’t feel the need to keep quiet.

“How did you end up here anyway?” He asked as he stabbed the dirt with his shovel.

“Saw an ad, pay was decent. And that’s pretty much of it.”

“You know what I meant. You have more the face of a waitress at a high end place…”

“Tried waitressing. Punched the first asshole who slapped my butt.” Emma told him with a slight snort. Emma remembered the job, it was one of her first out of prison gigs. She’d panicked about the guy pressing charges and Emma just bolted.

“Well, that’d do it.” Tino laughed.

“What about you?” Emma wasn’t just being polite but she wasn’t about to let her tone show that.

“Eh, folks kicked me out. Needed a job quick and Joe let me stay in the shed until I got a place of my own.” Tino sounded as if he had been wanting to tell someone this story but wanted to keep his dignity intact. “Told him to duck it out of my pay.”

“Then it wouldn’t be charity.” Emma said without thinking

“Yeah,” This gave Tino cause for pause and to take a deep breath “Yeah. Exactly that”

“Wanna tell me why your folks kicked you out?” She heard Tino hold his breath so she added “It’s alright if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s fine. How to put it?” A small and nervous laugh escaped him. “I think my dad said it best: ‘Constantino, I didn’t raise a faggot. You either quit this nonsense or get out.’ He always did have a way with words.”

“Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t know real families did that too.” She hoped her tone sounded sympathetic enough.

“Real families?” Tino turned to look at her, puzzled.

“Ah. Foster kid. Got kicked out of a few homes for being into girls. Sometimes just a whiff of gay is enough for jerks.” Emma didn’t know if she wanted to talk about this but it was out of her big mouth now.

“I’m sorry, Swan. I didn’t know. Fuck that’s rough.” Tino sounded hurt for her but she was glad there was no pity in his voice.

“I survived.” Her tone was casual but her shovel went in a little harder into the ground. “Looks like we both did.”

“His name was Haidar.” Tino said quietly.

“Huh?”

“Why I had to leave home. I fell in love with Haidar, which was sacrilege on every level.” Emma could practically feel the pressure coming off Tino’s chest as the words came out.

“Yeah, why?” She had never learned to sound gentle but she was doing her best.

“Haidar had this beautiful curly hair and these green eyes that just popped.” He took a deep breath as if to steady himself. “Anwyay, he and his family lived down the street. We bonded over being the only brown kids in a white neighbourhood. No offense.”

“None taken.” Emma shook her head slightly

“Mom kept a statue of the Virgin in the bedroom and his family prayed five times a day. But we were more alike than different, I guess.” Tino’s words and tone were a contradiction, he wanted so badly for someone to listen to his words but not to the emotions they were so obviously bringing up. Emma knew that feeling too well. “We both fought it at first. More him than me, I think. But then we didn’t, and God it was easy. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think know.” Emma tried not think of how easy it had been to let herself fall for Neal. She didn’t need that bagful of emotions right now.

“Two years it went on. We hid as best we could, making up excuses. Even not going away to college. Then a cousin of mine saw us one late night in a place we thought was safe. Next thing you know my dad’s screaming and my mom’s crying and repeating over and over again how God doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Shit.”

“I always did hate my cousin Blanca.” He stopped and his tone turned weaker. “I tried to argue, I really did try to tell them how much I loved Haidar and begged them not to make me choose between them. See that’s where it got hard.” They were midway through the second grave now.

“How?” Emma found herself moved by Tino but she lacked the words to let him know.

“I never had to choose. My dad flat out told me to quit being me and Haidar…he said he couldn’t follow me out the door when I went knocking that night.  It’d kill his family, and he told me that I of all people should understand. And what’s worse, I did. I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t. I never could.”

“You’re a better person than me.” It was all she could say, thinking of everything she had lost and the little grace she had about it.

“You got fucked up over love too, Swan?”

“More like fucked over.”

“Want to tell me about it?” He clearly wanted to return the favour he felt Emma had done him.

“Let’s just say that I could hate him. Still do.”

“Must have been some piece of work.”

“Yeah.” Emma laughed lowly and was relieved to see the job was almost done.

“Anyone tell you you’d make a good priest?”

“What? No?” That had to be strangest question Emma had ever been asked. “Why the hell?”

“You’re easy to bear your soul to.” Tino said sweetly.

* * *

 

If it had been summer they would have watched the sunrise under a tree, drinking rum spiced coffee but instead they were getting a slight buzz out in the cold watching a fox roam around the grounds. Emma could tell Tino felt lighter, his shoulders didn’t seem weighed down and his chest rose evenly. She hadn’t done much but it felt good to have been a part of that and she wished her own uneasiness could be so easily lifted. A few smiles and raunchy jokes hid it all so well.

“I hope we’re not stuck here forever.” Tino said, his eyes still following the fox. “Missing out some great night life.”

“What are you talking about? This is where it’s at, right here. Communion with the dead and all. I bet we could play some crappy music and charge five bucks a head too. All sorts of weirdoes would be into that.”

“Ha! Yeah, overcharge for drinks and call it a theme club. Joe has not truly exploited this place’s potential.”

“I’d be a great bouncer.” Emma added feeling the rum in her throat.

“I have no doubt of that. I wouldn’t want to pick a fight with you.”

“And considering the type of crowd this would attract, it’d be a pretty easy job.” Emma blew warm air into her hands.

“Yeah. OK, the fox’s gone now. That’s my cue to leave.” Tino gently give her arm a pat and began to walk towards his scooter.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” She told him even if it was already tomorrow.

“But not forever, Swan.”

“Yeah, but not forever. Night.”

* * *

 

Emma had been fine driving away from the cemetery, she even enjoyed how the morning mist was beginning to set in and the smell of the cold in the early morning.  Thinking back to her and Tino’s conversation she found herself laughing but then, without really knowing why, Emma began to cry.  It came from her chest and it was heavy and so she parked the bug off to a side and just let it all out. Emma wanted to feel clean, fucking clean and light. And how hard she had been trying to keep moving and it worked for the most part. Her life was fine, just fine. Emma had to remind herself how far she’d come so far. As long as she kept going with her head up and eyes hardly ever looking back she would continue to be OK. And that’s all she needed at the moment. Emma suddenly found herself laughing remembering that an old woman told her that a beautiful queen awaited her in her future. How wasted must she had been that night, she wondered. But she did not remember her words out some ridiculous hope for the future. It was a memory meant to snap her out of her funk and make her laugh about how weird life could get.

Her stomach growled and lacking the creativity to think of a better place for early morning dinner, Emma decided to visit the taco place near her building again once she got back. There was no shame in it. Emma practically devoured two orders of gyros and was chugging down watermelon lemonade when she recognized the same dyed bearded asshole from the day before. He wasn’t exactly stupid, he knew Marta wouldn’t be here in the morning, and thought it’d be safe to use the same play as before. But Emma was willing to give him the benefit of doubt, who knew, maybe he was here to pay his dues.  But instead he gulfed down an order of chicken tacos and pulled the same tired stunt. Emma quickly left some money on the bar and ran after him.

“What a dick.” She muttered as she caught up with him. He had stopped running after a block, entirely too confident that his plan would work out exactly the same each time. “Hey, buddy I think you dropped your wallet!”

The guy turned around and looked at Emma, confused. He searched his pockets and held it up for her to see. “Thanks, but mine’s right here.”

“Funny, I thought you might have lost it. Seeing as you just skipped on the bill back at Ramon’s.” Emma stepped closer putting her best fight face.

“Ah that. Well, I run on credit.” He gave her sheepish smile.

“No, you really fucking don’t.”

“What are you, their muscle? Chasing down people with taco debt?” This time he laughed, clearly not threatened. Not yet anyway.

“So what if I am? Do you even know what neighbourhood this is, pal? Or do you just come here for the solid carne asada they sell? You think Ramon’s not paying for protection to Jimmy?” Emma was bluffing and it wasn’t her best but it would have to do.

“Who the hell is Jimmy?”

“Wow, you really are not from around here.” She was pushing it but she didn’t care, the guy was getting visibly nervous.

“Listen, it’s just some food money. No big deal.” He tried stepping away from her but Emma grabbed his arm and bent it backward, locking him in that painful position. “Shit. Okay, okay.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now walk with me and don’t make hurt you.”

Once at Ramon’s she released him and pushed him towards the cash register. “Pay up, Red Beard.” Maybe she liked this. 

The morning server looked from Emma to Red Beard, not understanding. “This excuse of a human owes this place some money. He keeps skipping on the check.” She told him.

“Oh, you’re the jerk who almost got Fofo fired yesterday. Yeah, yeah. Shouldda known.” He shook his head. “It’s sixty dollars, man.”  Red Beard grudgingly emptied his wallet and paid the server.

“Can’t believe you sent someone after me for sixty bucks.” He mumbled as he moved away from the bar.

“What? We didn’t…what?”

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Red Beard sighed as he looked at Emma and left the place with his tail between his legs.

“You brought him back. Why?”

“I dunno. Saw him do the same thing yesterday. Just felt like the right thing to do.” Emma said shrugging.

“Well, if you need a job chasing scumbags for money, let me know. Seems to me like you’re a natural.”

Emma let herself smile and allowed it to go as far into a laugh. He handed her a coffee in a to-go cup. “On the house.”

“Ha, thanks. See you around.”

“Yeah and let me know about that job.”

Emma nodded and headed out back to her apartment. She dressed down to her tank top and underwear, brushed her teeth and collapsed on the bed. Thinking life had been a little more than fine in the last few hours she passed out into a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check for name meanings for bonus points.


	5. Daughter of the Moon

_The room was covered in a strange sort of light. It was impossible to tell if it was dawn or dusk, and it was happy exhaustion and excitement all in one. Regina could not describe or even name the very peculiar feeling that coursed all through her. Maybe if she attempted it, she’d call it a cool and serene breeze but even that wouldn’t do it justice. Because she burned too, but it was like she was the flame itself dancing around, ecstatic to have air to grow stronger and more luminous.  She was uncertain of what anything in this place was but she did know she would like to stay here for all of time._

_Soon Regina became aware that she was not alone. Had this been somewhere else her body would have pulsated with fear but not here. The Queen felt she knew this person, this warm body lying next to hers. As soon as she released her breath and watched her chest rise, Regina knew exactly who it was. But she could not name the other woman, her name feeling on her tongue like an old and beloved word she forgot the instant she needed it. If someone asked her to sketch her likeness from memory Regina knew she could have drawn every dip of her body, every crevice and capture the way her eyes shone. But looking at her now, she could not tell what she looked like._

_The Queen’s hand moved on its own accord, out of familiarity Regina understood immediately. She must have done this a thousand times but also knew this to be the very first time. She stirred gently under her touch, the way a piano key hits its chord with the softest of touches. The Queen watched how she lazily opened her eyes and her sweet face turned to face her own. The woman spoke her name upon waking and her gazing at her face; that was the one thing that was permanent and discernible in this strange and wonderful place. Knowing smiles spread across their faces, as if to say that they had found each other once again._

_They spoke but whatever words were said between them Regina forgot them in an instant, only the present existed here. She did not know what they had said before and neither did she have any idea what she would say, Regina only knew what they were saying to each other. And yet for the oddity that this was, she found that it did not much matter that she could not know what words had left their lips. It could not compare to the way their lips met and their breaths found a singular and steady rhythm. It could never matter as much as the elation she felt. No, it never could. The Queen could feel the other woman’s heart beat like she felt her own, as if it was her blood that pulsed through Regina’s veins. Everything that was Regina’s was hers and whatever belonged to her Regina held; everything was completely theirs here. Wherever here was._

_Regina did not need to be told that the heavens were contained in this place with her._

The Queen’s eyes opened with a flash of pain, they were barely settling to the suffocating cold and darkness. To her horror, Regina could recognize this place. The polished stone that lined her walls and stained glass windows through which no light was coming through were all known to her. These were still her royal chambers; she had never left them. Her whole body was trembling and it ached it terribly. There was no woman lying next to her, no fleeting words being said between them, no smiles. What she had was emptiness and that just made her body shake violently until it finally gave way to tears. Regina realized, feeling dread settling deep in her belly, that she was ill. Going in and out of consciousness throughout the night Regina concluded that her affliction was a consequence of not heeding Tibiche’s warning. Magic had escaped her in a rush of rage while facing her mother and was very likely responsible for the odd place she visited in her sleep. She wondered if magic did not possess a will of its own and she was simply its unknowing slave.

* * *

 

 

The day broke and she was unable to move. Her strength was lacking in almost every way and all she desperately wanted was to go back to that place where everything perfectly fit in such odd way. Regina could only lift her eyes as her handmaidens walked into her chambers ready to prepare her for the day. Suddenly she found herself being grateful at being labelled a lesser Queen, as the previous owner of the title gathered so much reverence that noble women found it a privilege to rouse and dress Her Majesty every morning. Only Sarah, Bessie and Olivia would be privy to her current state and for that she was relieved.

“How is Your Majesty feeling this morning?” Asked Sarah after all three had bowed upon entering the room.

“Not well, I’m afraid.” Regina replied sinking deeper into her mattress. “The rain has made me ill.” She lied, Regina could never fully trust anyone inside King Leopold’s castle. Not even the three women who were under her direct and sole service.

“We’re sorry to hear that, Your Majesty.” Bessie walked up to the foot of her bed, worryingly eyeing her. “Should we fetch the Royal Healer?”

“No.” The mere thought frightened and repulsed Regina. “I just need rest and quiet.”

“But Your Majesty, if I may, if something were to happen to you…”

“I’ve said no, Bessie.” The Queen said curtly.

“We’re just afraid, Your Majesty. What if your life were to be in danger…”

“Then let me die.” A strange mix of authority and sadness had spilled onto those words. “You will let me die before you let anyone outside these chamber doors know about my condition.” The gravity of her words should have frightened her, but they did not. Regina had meant each and every one of them. She would sooner face death than have her magic exposed and her body pricked and prodded by yet another man. Regina saw the stunned look upon her handmaidens’ faces and added “It is an order from your Queen.”

“Yes, Your Majesty” They all managed to say in a dejected unison.

Her handmaidens were nothing but diligent, they brought her meals from the castle kitchens themselves. They absolutely refused to let any of the kitchen servants near her door and fed her when it was obvious Regina could not do it herself. Olivia gently washed her body and perfumed it, claiming that simply feeling oneself clean could do wonders. Sarah fussed hovered over bed, feeling for a fever at least once an hour and Bessie simply sat next to her bed waiting for any order she might give. Regina appreciated their work and devotion and felt guilt built up over her inability to give them her full trust. It could not be helped, it’s what she had decided, besides the cause of her affliction was irrelevant. With that rationalization fresh on her mind she felt herself drift off into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

Over the course of three days Regina felt her strength slowly returning to her. Being able to get out of bed and into her bath became a newfound delight to her and she gladly ate her meat and potatoes with no help whatsoever. However, if she spent too much time on her feet her vision would start to fail followed by her legs. So in bed she remained, impatient and irritable. Her singular comfort remained that indescribable place and the woman with whom she shared it. It was an impossible task to try and remember anything specific or solid about it. Regina could only recall the way she felt in there with her and that was enough to keep her in bed and her mind in one piece. There were questions that were eating away at her; it was fairly obvious to everyone in her chambers that she was eager to get back on her stallion and ride into the woods once again but this went by unmentioned.

In the afternoon of the third day Sarah entered her chamber with her usual tea and with fear spread all across her face. Regina watched her place her tray next to her bed and straighten herself up before speaking.

“Your Majesty there is a slight problem.” Sarah couldn’t meet her Queen’s eyes. “Princess Snow White has asked about your whereabouts. She has requested to see Your Royal Highness.”

Regina should have expected this, she should have known the girl would want her plaything at some point. It had been bad foresight on her part and she was going to have to live with the consequences.

“And where is the Crown Princess now, Sarah?”

“Outside Your Majesty’s chambers.” No doubt Sarah thought she had failed her duty.

Regina sighed and thought only for short second. “Bring her in.” Seeing Sarah’s concern and the way Bessie and Olivia held their breaths she added “It’s fine. I am well enough for this. If the Crown Princess wants to see me, she will.”

Bessie and Olivia jumped to dress Regina into her simplest gown, set her dark locks into a neat bun, and helped her get settled in her sitting room. Hearing the doors open and Snow White’s energetic steps Regina felt her grimace turn into a rehearsed smile.

“Stepmother!” The girl rushed excitedly towards her, carrying a book in her arms. “I couldn’t find you anywhere today!” Regina’s breath steadied upon hearing those words, Snow had only barely noticed her absence today.

“The rain has kept me indoors, Princess.” Regina replied as serenely as she could. She did not motion for her to sit in the empty seat next to hers yet it was what Snow White did. It seemed it would be a long while before the girl left her to her own devices.  “Have you kept busy?”

“Oh yes! I’ve decided on strawberry macarons for next week’s feast but that was before father left for the West. He said I should read up on the Kingdom’s history, he would want to discuss when he returned.”

“When will the King be back?” Regina did not know the King had gone. He usually planned and announced his trips with great grandeur, as if the mere act of getting into a carriage was an act of bravery.

“In four days’ time he said.” Snow sighed as she opened the book she’d been holding. “He promised to bring me the best musical box in the whole West. But I have to read the first three chapters of the book by then.” The girl looked at her pleadingly and Regina instantly knew where this was headed. “Would you help me, stepmother?”

“Yes, of course, dear.” Regina tightened her grasp on the fabric underneath her fingers as she said those words. Her head was unpleasantly light upon her shoulders and her knees felt stiff. It did not matter, a patient and pleasant smile needed to be upon her face.

Snow handed her the book. It certainly felt old, the leather and parchment had that particular smell that came with age. The Princess pointed her to the first page of the first chapter. It was very dense writing, the words written tightly together. It did not seem like the type of book that would possess colourful illustrations, the type that Snow would be drawn to. The King seemed to be preparing his daughter for her future rule but Regina did not understand how he could have possibly given her such a daunting intellectual task at this age. Unless he had intended for the Princess to come to her and just the thought of it sent a sharp pain to her temple.

“I do love it when you read, stepmother.” Snow said in the same tone she reserved for her bird friends as she brought her chair closer to Regina’s. The Queen, had on occasion, seen herself obligated to read a story or two to put the Princess to bed even if she believed Snow to be too old for that sort of ritual.

Regina cleared her throat and steadied herself. “In the fourteenth year of the third age our great Kingdom fought the savages of the Dark Mountains. The mountains were dangerous terrain, our great armies were unable to march at their usual pace and supplies were scarce. Our knights could not neither eat nor drink any of the things that grew in the Dark Mountains without risking being ensnared by a poisonous magic for all time.” The Queen paused to look at the Princess, whose eyes were urging her to go on. Regina felt like using the book for kindling her fire. “The campaign became endangered by the savages’ disrespect for the rules of honourable warfare and bloody attacks. Three hundred men were lost to the perils of the place and to the spears of its people on the seventh night. One hundred stallions were stolen by the savages and the water poisoned. His Royal Highness, King Richard the Conqueror, became desperate.”

“Oh, I remember him! Father speaks of his bravery and strength all the time. We come from his noble house!” The Princess patted her arm wishing her excitement to be contagious.

Regina paid no mind to Snow’s interruption. “The King saw fit to employ different methods in order to claim the Dark Mountains for the Kingdom. Seeing the magic of the mountains and the savages take the lives of his men, the King turned to summon the Dark One on the tenth day of the campaign, in the Old Man’s pass.” It was this that peaked the Queen’s interest. It was the second time in four days that she had come across this name. Regina knew it was a name she ought to have been familiar with, it was probably used to warn children about the dangers of darkness and evil. However, she had grown up without hearing it once and now found it suspicious.

“The Dark One?” The Crown Princess clearly did not approve of her ancestor’s strategy. “I thought only the evil made deals with him.” Snow crossed her arms and looked to Regina for answer.

“I don’t know about that, dear.” Regina said truthfully. “Maybe it’s best to keep reading.” At this Snow nodded unhappily. “King Richard asked for a weapon to conquer the Dark Mountains and triumph over the savages. The Dark One fashioned him a sword made from the obsidian found in the mountains. It was with this black sword and the prowess of a thousand good knights that the mountains were claimed for our Kingdom.”

“What happened to the sword?” The Crown Princess asked curiously, her bad mood somewhat dissipated.

Regina read ahead to the next paragraph silently and found no answer. “It doesn’t say. I’m afraid it just skips to King Richard’s…” Regina fought through a pang of pain to her temples and struggled to keep her tone steady “Other accomplishments.”

“What was the price for the sword?” The girl had clearly not reconciled the fact that the author simply chose to omit facts from his account.

“The price?” Regina asked perplexed.

“There is always a price with the Dark One. Everyone in our Kingdom knows that.” The Princess whispered as if she were afraid the Dark One himself would manifest.

* * *

 

For the rest of the week Regina’s mind oscillated between curiosity and frustration. Feeling stronger with the passing days, she set out for the royal library to look for any references of the Dark One. Most historians avoided the name and when mentioned, it was quickly glossed over. Exhausted and reading through yet another useless volume, Regina concluded that it would take her months to find some answers or even an inch of truth in all the royal volumes. In bed, calm washing over as she remembered that queer place which was so decidedly hers, the Queen concluded that the person with any sort of answers would be Tibiche. Riding back to her shack unnoticed should not prove too difficult, the King had returned from the West and had all but locked himself in the council room with all his advisers. Trouble seemed to be brewing, but she could not afford to make political problems the top of her concerns. Regina would ride out tomorrow morning.

* * *

 

The shack was unspeakably warm, all sorts of fumes were escaping the stove. Regina sat at the table very still listening to Tibiche rant about how stupid she had been in using her magic like that. When Regina had explained her absence to her, Tibiche had all but poured some foul concoction down her throat. The Queen didn’t think she had seen such a puzzling combination of concern and anger. The old woman looked as if she didn’t know whether to slap her or hug her. Tibiche did neither and let all sorts of words fly around; she hadn’t allowed Regina to put in one word during this time. With an angry huff Tibiche settled in an old arm chair and stared at Regina, she understood that it was permission to speak.

“Are you quite finished?” Her tone was almost petulant but if she had been spoken to like a child, she would behave like one.

“ _Niña_ , don’t tempt me.” Tibiche replied with a glare. “You’ve got something to ask. I can see it in those dark eyes of yours. Go ahead and ask, _ya preguntame_.”

“Before you go off again, I’d like to point out that this was also entirely accidental. It happened during my sleep, I believe.” Regina sighed and picked her words carefully. “I was in odd sort of place. Everything was nebulous there, as soon as I spoke I had already forgotten the words. I don’t think time was real.” Regina omitted the woman who lied next to her and shared her smiles, she belonged to Regina alone. “It was when I left it that I became ill.”

“You should have begun with that.” The look on the old woman’s eyes could have cut through steel. “Your soul left your body again that night. It went to a different place, one it felt it belonged in.” Tibiche relaxed into her chair as she closed her eyes momentarily. “Mi Reina, you were still fragile from our exercise from the day before. Having spilled out magic to confront your mother and your obvious distress had your soul looking for an escape. It was your pain that caused it to leave and your fury that made you sick.” Her eyes remained closed as she spoke. “It was not entirely your fault, niña.”

“How do I go back?” She asked already suspecting what the answer may be.

“In this case, I believe your soul will return on its own accord.  So long as you strive to be better, you will find that place when you need it.” Tibiche’s tone had softened.

“I see.” Regina knew she and her teacher had differing views on the meaning of “better”. Regina defined it by what she could do and Tibiche understood it to be how much she could endure. It was action versus reaction; the sword versus the shield. “I suppose that’s somewhat comforting.”

“Mhmm. There is something else.” Tibiche stated with no doubt in her voice. “If there weren’t, you wouldn’t be so quiet.”

 “You know me too well.” Regina smiled. “When my magic pushed my mother away, she asked how long had I been the Dark One’s apprentice. I tried the royal volumes but I all manage to discover was that he grants some sort of deals and…”

“The Dark One, mi Reina, is one demon you should never hope to meet.” Tibiche got on her feet and moved to join Regina at the table. “He’s a trickster, older than anyone alive can remember. His favourite prey are the desperate. He’ll claim to possess the thing you want most in the world or the means to get it. But they always come at a high price and his deals are seldom as fair as they seem. The bastard has a way with words. A poor fool might trade his soul for all the gold in the kingdom and the Dark One could very well present him with all the golden hay from the plains.” Tibiche’s tone had turned bitter.

“Did you ever meet him?” Regina thought her words sounded too personal to be a general account of him.

“Yes.” She replied shortly. “It would be wiser for this curiosity of yours to be cut short. There are things better left unknown. There is no place for that strong head of yours here. Tell me you understand, _niña_.”

“I understand.” Regina replied hiding her dissatisfaction with the answer.

“Now come with me. We should both pray to Our Proud Moon Goddess. Give thanks for your recovery, _hay que ser agradecida._ ” Regina nodded and followed her out the door.

Tibiche had bowed in front of the Proud Moon Goddess’s shrine but Regina had preferred to look upon her face. The statue was finely crafted, so much so that it seemed out of place. She was carved from white stone; Her features were so perfectly sculpted that Regina felt Her eyes lock with her own. Her papá had taught her to pray to the Proud Moon Goddess but over the course of the years she found less reasons to keep any sort of faith. But looking upon Her now with her serenely proud expression, Regina felt something within her move. The Queen knew that the Goddess would understand her, she would forgive whatever dark curiosity she had within her. Regina would find the answers she needed elsewhere. Surely, the Goddess could never judge any daughter of hers so harshly.


	6. Cheap Shrimp

_A familiar and soft touch pulled from her sleep. If it had been anyone else, she would have growled and refused to budge an inch.  But Emma slowly began to open her eyes, she’d always been lazy when waking up. She could feel her eyes on her, this woman Emma knew she knew. Wanting to see her face again, or was it the first time? Emma turned to look at her and she felt herself say the woman’s name. What was it? She had just said it and now she lost it; it had felt strong on her tongue. But then it didn’t matter because the woman had called her own name and those were the only two things that made sense in this amazing and weird place. The woman gave her this wide and toothy smile she’d seen a thousand times before on her face. Emma couldn’t help but let her own smile grow and grow. Here they were, again._

_Fuck. She was beautiful and Emma couldn’t for the life of her begin to describe what she looked like. But she did remember how her skin felt under fingers and the smoothness of her hair. She had said something and Emma had replied, or had she laughed? She didn’t know, she had no fucking clue what they were talking about. But she didn’t care, she didn’t give a single damn, how could she when she could feel her breath on her neck and her fingers curling around her hair? Nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t place where she was or what this room was. Emma couldn’t even begin to think about how it made her feel, it didn’t make any sense and yet it felt like she understood it completely._

_Emma felt her lips press against hers and it was… natural. They had been here before, done this hundreds of times but it felt so new. Like when she’d stumble on a wild flower surrounded by weeds and look at as if it she had never seen it before. Every time Emma had caught herself doing that she felt stupid and quickly shook it off but not here. Not with her. Here everything was as tight as a perfect circle. There was no need to shake off this feeling, she liked it. No, she loved it. She loved her, Emma suddenly understood. Had she always loved her? It was impossible to tell. But again, it wasn’t important. She didn’t need to know, she loved her now. She loved her here. No, no, she didn’t feel dumb or ashamed of that. She didn’t need to hide this from her, Emma didn’t need to keep any side of herself a secret. They could just be here._

_Here in this weird as shit place she felt whole. Emma could feel her under skin, spreading like a wild fire. She was also like that rain you had been begging for on a hot day. If it had been anybody else, Emma would have laughed and called the whole thing totally batshit crazy. But not her. She was this ball of violent contradictions, Emma knew because she knew her. This place was THEIRS, that’s how she could be sure of all these things she did not understand or remember. Emma was even willing to bet that her heart beat as strong as hers did. They belonged here and everything belonged to them._

_Emma never wanted to leave. This was….this was something else._

Shit. Her head was pounding. Emma slowly opened her eyes and sighed in disappointment. The cheap and rough fabric of the motel blanket made her skin itch. In this twenty-five dollars a night room nothing was hers and she was alone. Everything was hard and ordinary and Emma tried to ignore the empty feeling at the pit of her stomach. “Fuck” Emma muttered as she felt herself crying. She shouldn’t be crying over a stupid dream and she especially shouldn’t be thinking that it was more than just a dream. Because it wasn’t. Even if she could still remember the way her eyelashes had brushed against her cheek and how complete she had been in that place. Emma wanted to shut her eyes and go back and find her again. Instead she pulled the covers off her and ran to the toilet. She puked her guts out. Great. Now she was pinning for some dream woman, sick with food poisoning, and spending the rest of the night with her head stuck in a toilet. Well, wasn’t it just like her?

* * *

 

At least she’d gotten her bounty, Emma thought as she wrapped the itchy covers around herself in the morning. She could stay in this craphole until she got better. It shouldn’t be too long, it couldn’t be too long. Emma had to be back on her feet soon and get back to the city.  She’d been chasing an asshole who owed her boss money, that’s what got her to this ghost town. Emma thought she’d treat herself to the buffet on Main Street after catching the jerk. Really, he had been an easy target; stupid enough to be overconfident. Emma kept her distance and finally cornered him just in time for dinner time. Dude had been so scared that he emptied his account on the first ATM they found. So, what was the harm in seating her ass down and enjoying all you can eat shrimp for seven bucks? This. This was the harm, this gross and clammy feeling in her hands and back. Tino had been right those months ago, she ate garbage and it was going to kill her.

Well, garbage and that more-than-dream she was telling herself was only a dream would kill her. But it was hard not to think about it as she blankly stared at the old TV playing some Cheers re-runs. Here everything made sense but it all felt so wrong. There, there she couldn’t even say what that place had been but everything just _fit_. Her own thoughts had been all over the place but Emma had never felt more clarity in her life. What the fuck had that been? She had never had a dream like that. Maybe it had been some food-induced hallucination. Those things happened; with the chemicals in shrimp and all. Emma was going to close her eyes and let sleep decide where it was going to take her. She told herself she wasn’t hoping she’d go back to that room. To _her_. Half-listening to Ted Danson on the TV Emma blacked out.

Four hours later, Emma woke up feeling good enough to go in search of food. If her stomach growled, she had to answer its call. She was well aware that it was cheap food that had gotten her into this mess in the first place but she couldn’t help but think of the greasy diner down the street. The thought of crispy bacon and scrambled eggs drenched in syrup was enough to make her strap on her boots and slip into her leather jacket. She caught a glimpse of herself on the bathroom mirror. Yep, she looked like absolute shit; nothing grease, sugar, and caffeine couldn’t fix.

“Some weak poisoning that was. Couldn’t even knock me out for a whole day.” Emma thought as she gulfed down a stack of pancakes with sugar loaded cup of coffee. She felt better, good enough to leave this town and get back to the city. Still, she pushed that emptiness she felt to the back of her mind. It could sit there all her life but Emma refused to think about it for too long.

“You OK honey?”  Her waitress asked refilling her cup.

“Yeah, yeah.” Emma lied.

* * *

 

Emma liked going to Mario’s. The air smelled like car grease and the guys were always playing music she couldn’t keep up with on the speakers. Her taste had been defined through old cassette tapes she’d been handed down or had stolen but she liked the strong beats in the songs that were always in the background here.

“Mario in?” She shouted over the music and electric saw Cisco was using.

He paused. “Well hello to you too, Swan.” If anyone could wear a shitgrin 24/7, it was Cisco. “I’m doing fine, today. Why, it IS a nice day, isn’t it?” He loved to give her crap over her ‘gringa’ manners, meaning lack of.

“Is he in or not Cisco?” Emma might have added a little more attitude than necessary to keep up the banter.

“Yes, bossman is in.” He replied with a sigh. “Caught him on a good mood today.” Cisco pulled down his safety goggles and went back to work.

Emma knocked and opened the door before even letting Mario telling her to come in. His office looked like the 70s had died there. Shag carpet, wood panelling, ugly brown furniture, and even a red lava lamp on his desk. How Mario loved that stupid thing. It had been the first thing he had pointed out to Emma when she first came in. She liked him well enough, even if he looked at her like he wanted to pinch her cheeks and called her “sweetheart” more than he should. This was a good gig, she had no real hours and the money was good. Better than she had ever had. She got to use the skills foster care and the streets had left her with. And Emma did enjoy chasing down assholes and getting them to pay if she as being honest.

“Emmita, do you ever wait for anyone to say ‘come in’ before you barge into their space?” She had startled him. Mario moved his thick framed glasses to the top of his balding head.

“Isn’t that why you hired me in the first place though?” Emma let herself grin as she took as seat opposite to him. “To barge into people’s lives? At least I gave you a warning.”

“Fair point.” Mario conceded as he opened a thick and yellowed notebook where he kept his books. “Good job on that jackass last week, by the way.” There was always this talking-down to her Mario did, he didn’t even need to add sweetheart at the end of that sentence. Maybe this is how fathers talked to their daughters, she wouldn’t know. He meant well, that much she knew and appreciated but it really wasn’t fucking necessary. Last week’s job had been a breeze, save for the food poisoning, Emma didn’t need a compliment or gold star for it. She was fucking good at this.

“Easy meat, Mario.” She told him trying not to sound rude. “Got anything for me?”

“Yeah. There’s this guy, owes me a couple of thousand for a DUI.” Mario didn’t even check his books.

“Aww come on, boss. You know I can do that in my sleep. Isn’t there something…better?” Emma was annoyed now.

“Sweetheart, just take it.” No. He was not pulling this bullshit on her right now.

“Listen Mario, you KNOW I can get the job done. I’ve been dealing with shitbags since before I could crawl. Stop giving me the jobs Jason passes on. I don’t want someone’s left overs.” She always did have a temper when tested. Just ask Eddie Carmichael and the scar her teeth left him with.

“Emmita, don’t be like that, OK? I’m just…you’re still a girl.” That was always going to be the bottom line, wasn’t it?

“I.am.not. Whatever you give me, I can guarantee you, I’ve seen it.” Her eyes were focused on his face, she wasn’t backing down. Emma even considered asking him why the hell he had bothered with her in the first place but Emma didn’t want to push her luck, she had to be smart about this. “I can get to people in a way Jason can’t.”

“Yes, I know all about your super-power.” Mario sighed, clearly wanting an out of this conversation. “Fine. Billy Steans owes me ten grand, his usual places are on Rockford and Hillside. Jason hasn’t been able to hone in on him. Yours for the taking.”

“Finally.” She breathed out as Mario handed her a Polaroid of this Billy Steans. He didn’t look like much, skinny with a porn-stache, nose too small for his face. Looks could be deceiving, though.

“Maybe your super-power will get you in.” Mario was testing her limits but Emma just shrugged. “Just be careful.”

“Always am.” Emma replied as sure of herself as she had ever been.

* * *

 

None of the places at Hillside had panned out and none of the seedy bars in the area showed any sign of Billy Steans. It had been almost a solid week of day-drinking and eating boxes of white doughnuts in the bag, waiting for a sign of Steans. Today she was at Rockford, and it was the worst place ever.  It didn’t even have the decency to look your average dumpster, it tried to disguise itself as trendy or whatever. Emma knew the place she was scouting packed meat during the day. They left the meat hooks for the effect at night, whatever got idiots paying a twenty-five dollar cover to be stuck in a smelly room with a bunch of strangers. And she had to go IN there tonight and look for this Billy Steans. They probably had awful music with synthesizers and shit. Emma rolled up the sleeves of her plaid shirt, made sure her curls were the appropriate amount of messy and practiced a smile in her rear view mirror. The amount of bullshit that was going to come out of her mouth to get this Billy guy was going to be amazing. She paid the twenty five bucks to get in and made a mental note to charge Mario later.

Yeah, this place was as bad is it seemed. It was the wrong kind of smoky, dark and the music was too loud to let her think. It was crowded, but she knew Steans was here. She’d seen him go in and she figured this is usually where Jason lost track of him. Emma figured her best bet was to hang around the bar and let herself stand out by just staying there, drinking. That was a fool-proof creep magnet, they could never pass out the chance to hit on a woman drinking alone at the bar. Sure enough, at least three sweaty men asked what she was drinking, practically shouting in her ear. Emma had replied “water” in all those cases and moved away from them. Maybe one of them had called her a dyke, she just shrugged it off at this point.

Just as she was beginning to doubt her master plan when Billy Steans showed up himself. The bartender handed him a drink without taking his order or even expecting cash in return. Despite his ass being scrawny, it seemed Steans was some sort of big shot here. This was going to be interesting and the pay-off was going to be huge. Emma would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited. She made sure to catch his eye and lock their gaze and then look away at the right time. Who could resist this move? Of course he smiled and asked for another drink to bring over to her.

* * *

 

So, she ended up punching the guy. Well, Emma had knocked him out cold to be exact. It’s not like she got off scot-free. The shit was wearing a tacky ring and it left a mark on her cheek, it had only bled a little. Driving away to Mario’s with Steans tied up in her seat and convincing herself that this was not a kidnapping, Emma wondered if there would ever be a problem she didn’t end up solving with her fists. She needed to work on that.

Her plan had worked for the most part. Steans did hit on her and she had managed to get on his good side. He swallowed her whole act, the flirting and the laughing at jokes she hadn’t even heard. He was a liar, through and through, it’s what made him easy to play. Emma had even lured him outside, back to her bug and he tried to push her up against it, like some bad macho fantasy. Instinct kicked in and she pushed him away with all her strength and that’s when he took a swing at her. Dickweed didn’t know who he was messing with and she hit him twice as hard. Billy Steans hit the ground cold and she dragged his limp body into her car, not even thinking straight.

The look on Mario’s face when she knocked on his door at midnight had been so hilarious that Emma considered for a second telling him to wave her bounty. What little hair he had was sticking up, his eyes were red and she could tell he had been drooling in his sleep. Emma pushed a now-awake Steans toward Mario with smug grin on her face. She’d done it, actually done it and dammit if she wasn’t going to allow herself some pride. Mario touched his own cheek silently asking about the scrape on hers, Emma shrugged in response and gave him a sheepish smile.

“See ya tomorrow, Mario.” She didn’t let him get a word in and walked away.

* * *

 

The place was more Emma’s style, it was on the good side of crummy. It was near a college campus and the kitchen was open into the early hours of the morning and the beer was cheap. Frat boys avoided it at all costs and the barkeep didn’t ask too many questions. It didn’t hurt that the music was good and just the right volume. She had practically swallowed an order of chili fries and now sat quietly enjoying what was left of the night. The blond ale she had asked for, not the cheap kind, was giving her a nice buzz and she could feel her mind beginning to slow down. Maybe it could be quiet for a night. Ever since that –not-more-than-a-dream-dream last week Emma kept thinking about it in bed, trying to ignore it and wishing it would just go away. Because she would wake up groggy and disappointed that she could never go back to it. Yeah, maybe the blond ale would help.

A song she recognized began playing and Emma nodded to herself. She loved Going to California and began mouthing the words to it. They sounded sad to her now, and she didn’t want to think about the reason. It was all too clear to her and she felt stupid for letting a dream had over food poisoning to drag her down like this. But her lips kept moving anyway, as if she were on some sentimental trance.

“What happened to your face?” A voice next to her asked. It was more curious than sympathetic. Emma appreciated that. She turned to face the voice’s owner and found a probable college girl standing there. Her hair was dark and reached her jaw line and her brown eyes were scanning Emma carefully.

“Some jerk at work.” Emma answered feeling the scrape on her cheek.

“Did you get them back?” She wasn’t holding a drink and wasn’t trying to get the barkeep’s attention.

Emma smiled. “Yeah, I did.” She was flat out checking her out and Emma did not feel bad about it. Not tonight.

“Good.” She replied with a smile of her own and feeling the emptiness creeping in, Emma realized that she did not recognize her smile. That was going to have be stuffed in some drawer at the back of her mind.

“I’m Camilla.” She took a seat next to Emma. “Pint of Guinness, please.” Camilla took the barkeep while still eyeing Emma.

“Emma.”

Camilla’s words went right over Emma’s head for the most part, she was post-grad working on some things Emma was sure weren’t real words. But still she listened; it was keeping whatever she feeling at bay. Camilla was beautiful, confident and didn’t mind Emma’s swearing. Emma wasn’t surprised when they ended up in bed together that night, it was after what Camilla had intended. It was good, but not good enough to bring Emma down from wherever the hell she was. Running her tongue across her stomach didn’t help and her fingers just seemed to know that Camilla was a stranger. Which was a dumb thought to have, because of course she was a stranger. They had just met a bar and decided this was a good idea. Even when she climaxed it felt wrong. Camilla was hard in all the wrong places and soft where Emma didn’t want her to be and her name didn’t feel strong on her tongue whenever she used it. Camilla, she was…well it was more about what she wasn’t than who she was. “Wrong, wrong.” Her mind kept repeating over and over again.  Camilla wasn’t who Emma wanted her to be, something she recognized to be fucked up and unfair.

Emma waited until Camilla had fallen asleep to get dressed and leave her place. A shitty move but couldn’t stay when everything was just screaming at her to get out. She had almost made it to the door when she heard Camilla sit up in the bed behind her.

“So you’re just gonna leave?” She didn’t sound hurt, at least. Camilla had been expecting this, Emma thought.

“Yeah.” Emma replied with her back still to her. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was fun.” Camilla hadn’t moved an inch, she could tell by the stillness of the room. “Have a good life, Emma.”

“Uhh..yeah. Thanks.” The words rang hollow as Emma said them. “You too.” She left Camilla without a last look. Emma knew there was nothing to be found there.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zeppelin seemed more than appropriate for Emma at this point. 
> 
> "Going To California"
> 
> Spent my days with a woman unkind, Smoked my stuff and drank all my wine.  
> Made up my mind to make a new start, Going To California with an aching in my heart.  
> Someone told me there's a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.  
> Took my chances on a big jet plane, never let them tell you that they're all the same.  
> The sea was red and the sky was grey, wondered how tomorrow could ever follow today.  
> The mountains and the canyons started to tremble and shake  
> as the children of the sun began to awake. 
> 
> Seems that the wrath of the Gods  
> Got a punch on the nose and it started to flow;  
> I think I might be sinking.  
> Throw me a line if I reach it in time  
> I'll meet you up there where the path  
> Runs straight and high. 
> 
> To find a queen without a king,  
> They say she plays guitar and cries and sings... la la la  
> Ride a white mare in the footsteps of dawn  
> Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born.  
> Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams,  
> Telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems.


	7. Sparks

The woods were quiet, it was a disturbing calm. The only audible sounds were the Queen’s uneven breathing and the click of Rocinante’s hooves.  There were no songbirds, no hares, no deer; Regina wondered if even wolves did not dare to venture to this part of the woods. She pat Rocinante affectionately realizing that her steed was brave to remain at her side. These woods were crawling with darkness, she could feel it in the air, softly making its way into her lungs. It should have been alarming that the feeling was not entirely an unpleasant one. A good person might have chocked, Regina thought, a good person would have turned around and abandoned this quest. A better person would not have even wondered what crossing paths with the Dark One would be like. But here she was, shivering under a cloak.

The Dark One’s castle could not be much further, she thought more frightened than excited. She could still turn back, it was not too late. Regina could ride with all her strength and arrive at her royal chambers exhausted but unchanged. The Queen shook her head, reprimanding herself. She could not possibly walk away and be at peace with herself. Regina had not spent weeks in the royal library going through historical records and old maps to leave this place empty handed. It would not only be cowardly but foolish.

“Odd spot for a stroll, isn’t it, dearie?” The voice had a gleeful evil tone to it.

“It is not a stroll, but I suppose you knew that.” Regina felt fear growing at the pit of her stomach and had she not had Rocinante to hold on to her steps would have faltered. She was well aware that this was the Dark One she was facing. He was a hideous thing, his skin was covered in scales of no definite colour and his eyes were as black as coal.

“Royalty does not stray this far from the castle for fresh air.” He did not walk, Regina realized. In a blink of an eye he disappeared and reappeared elsewhere; it was unnerving. “Oh yes, I know who you are, Your Majesty. Even if your magic reeks of peasant.” He added with an amused giggle.

“How would you know?” Regina asked with more defiance than she felt but at this point she was an expert performer.

“Ah, well. Not enough fire to it, too much spice and sweetness. I’m sure this is not the first time you’ve heard this.” He kept his movements erratic around her and seeing Regina had not replied he continued “There’s a distinctive weakness to it…”

“It is not weak…”The Queen began.

“Ha! Of course it is, dearie! If it weren’t you wouldn’t be here. You know it could never be enough.” The Dark One was pleased, though Regina could not tell if it was with himself or with her reactions.

“It’s helped, it’s made me better…”

“At what? At making silly little potions to keep the King’s seed from growing in your belly?” He gave her womb a quick poke before blinking away before she could push him off. “It is certainly unbecoming of a queen, if you ask me.”

“I do not plan to be Queen for much longer.” Her words had been less firm than she would have liked.

“Oh, dearie, Queen you are and Queen you shall remain. There is no escape from your Royal titles, I’m afraid.” His smile looked more like a snarl. “Don’t tell me that you came looking for the Dark One to free you? Because that would certainly be a first…”

“I had understood that your magic could accomplish anything if a deal were struck.” Regina successfully suppressed her tears but her disappointment and anger were spilling onto her words.

“Not untrue, but that requires me to be willing to use my magic for such purposes. It necessitates a deal good enough to entice me. And believe me, Your Majesty, I do not possess the will and you have nothing to offer me in return.”

“But I am the Queen, I can…” She was struggling to keep her rage under her skin and Regina was aware of how it delighted him.

“And yet a second ago you were ready to give up your title. My, my, how fickle of you.” The Dark One was childish in his glee. “There is nothing scared girl can provide me with, even if a crown does occasionally sit upon her head.”

Fury rushed through her, too rapidly for her to stop and think. Regina despised having her worth measured and questioned; she was tired of being made to feel lesser. Sparks ignited between Regina’s fingers and she felt her hands pulsating with heat. She raised her hands to her face and lost her footing upon seeing them covered in a bright orange fire. Rocinante neighed and backed away from his mistress in fear.

“Now that is something I could work with.”

“What?!” Regina barked. “You..you dis…”

“I wouldn’t finish that thought if I were you, Your Majesty. Don’t make rethink wanting to teach you.”

“Teach me?” Regina hated being confused and being made to sound like an idiot, especially when lying on the ground feeling the damp creeping on her backside.

“I could use an apprentice.” The Dark One seemed to be more concerned with his fingernails than with her. “You came here hoping to find a way to freedom. Your mistake is to believe that it can only be found running away. There is freedom to be found in power, dearie.”

“Is that how you feel?” She spat back, her hands still flaming. Regina saw something behind his eyes shift for a second, as if she had found a particularly sore spot. “Name your price, then.”

“Oh no, no price for Her Majesty Queen Regina.” He mocked her by bowing.

“Why not?”

“Let’s just say I’m invested in your future.” The fake innocence in his laugh was chilling to say the least. “I’d try to calm down, dearie. Lest you burn the whole forest down with that temper of yours.” With another blink he was gone and she was left flaming in the middle of the woods.

* * *

 

Regina could not determine how time progressed anymore, she knew several months had gone by because of the change of seasons. It was hard to keep track of herself among all the haze and smoke of magic. The Dark One was cruel, there was no denying that. He would push, prod, reduce her to dust and then kick her with such joy that it was difficult not to hate him. It only encouraged his methods and judging by her progress, they were painfully effective. Regina had successfully made a weapon out fire, altered the way the wind blew, transfigured animals into mere objects, harvested lightning from the clouds, and mended her broken bones. But magic always came at a price, no matter its kind.

Her mind was constantly covered in fog, Regina felt years older and often found herself asking why no one else seemed to be aging with her. In such brief and strange moments she had to remind herself that it was magic playing with her perceptions and that really time was flowing through its regular course. It was not normal, not even for a magic user, Regina suspected. The Queen still visited Tibiche and her hut in the woods. She still carried out her lessons and valued her company and words, but the different streams of magic got in between the seams of her and altered her insides.

Some days were bright, she could laugh freely with Tibiche and Regina could easily remember her nameless woman’s fingers on her skin, the way her breath left her body to enter her own. During those days the hope of just returning to that private place was enough to sustain her and ground her back to herself. The fog did not seem so thick then, if every day could be like that, the Queen thought, she could survive on hope alone and wait a life time. But then there were dark and terrible days, when she’d bark back at the Dark One and lunge herself at him only to be beaten back with a savage blow. She’d lose control and blood would trickle from her hands reminding her that skin still enveloped her. During those day furious despair blinded her. Regina felt like burning the whole world down if it meant she could find _her_ and she destroy it if she could not. After those days had passed she was thankful that the fog had returned to subdue her violent impulses.

Regina was under no illusions that she had been tricking Tibiche, she knew that the old woman could smell fire in her as much as the Dark One could smell apples. Tibiche never said a word, simply had her work harder and constantly searched her eyes hoping to find them clean of any lurking darkness. Her hands would grab Regina’s more often and lead her outside to the shrine of their Proud Moon Goddess, “Can’t hurt to get a little cleaner” she’d tell her each time, and Regina only nodded silently each time. The Queen could never tell her that she thought the Goddess would not ask for her cleanliness, that she could see it on her features that She would love her trying to take control of her life. The Proud Moon Goddess would call her daughter and embrace her, that she could never say out loud. So Regina bowed when she felt like standing.

* * *

 

The dining hall was decorated in a way the Crown Princess thought Regina might enjoy, white covered every possible corner. It looked as if it had snowed inside the castle and she thought there had never been a more repulsive sight. It was the Queen’s birthday and Snow White had taken it as her personal mission to perfect the details of the feast. “Stepmother, you are not to lift a finger!” the girl had told her and that had been the end of that discussion. There were no objections to be had, there was no question that this feast was happening, regardless of the Queen’s feelings about it. All Regina wanted was to lock herself in her chambers and try to quiet and clear her mind; she was unsure that her seams could hold much longer. Hours spent drinking and dining with nobility who did not like her nor respect her and the King’s ever judging eyes would not aid her state but of course it did not matter. _It could not matter_ , not if she was going to survive and keep the fates from ever touching her. She could not become undone just yet, Regina would make sure of that.

Regina had harboured hope that her papá would come to her on this night. She thought she could even suffer her mother for one evening if it meant seeing him, it had been so long and she was starved for his tender hugs and reassuring words. Instead, she received a letter from her mother informing her that they would not be attending but that her father had sent her a present. Regina assumed this was some sort of punishment her mother was inflicting on her and that her papá was once again powerless to stop it. He could only try to ameliorate the pain, it had been the same routine since she had been a girl. Her mother would raise her hand to her and her papá was there to soothe to swollen skin and kiss it better. It stung and hurt in the present as much as it did in her past. Regina had not bothered to open the box that had come with the letter.

The Queen was not surprised by the fact that knights and lords had failed to realize that the night’s feast were supposed to be in her honor. The ladies had paid their respects, curtsying and bowing in front of a queen they knew was powerless. The only time eyes were set upon on her was when the King had half-heartedly toasted for good health and Snow White had excitedly wished for many happy returns. Regina was relieved to see that conversations resumed soon after and she could sit back and let the wine and fog cloud her mind.

A heavy sigh came from the seat beside her. “I don’t know what I have done to be given the honor to be seated at the Queen’s side.” The speaker was earnest and it was not one Regina recognized. The accent was strong and unlike any she had heard.

“You should be asking what you did to deserve the displeasure, dear.” Regina replied quietly turning to look at her partner in conversation. Her skin was a shade darker than hers, her eyebrows thick and her brown eyes sharp enough to cut through stone. It suddenly struck her why the stranger had been seated next to her, she, like the Queen, did not belong in this room. She too could not get lost among the multitude of milky white skin and bright eyes.

“Forgive me for disagreeing with Your Majesty, but it is not a displeasure.” The woman smiled with a certain air of mischief about her and the Queen allowed herself to laugh faintly. Regina judged her to be at least ten years older just by the way she carried herself.

“And just who might you be?” Regina inquired with a playfulness she never allowed.

“Amestris of Para-Upari-Sena.” Seeing the Queen’s confused expression, she laughed as if she had been waiting for her cue. “Or as they might call it here, ‘the West’.”

“My own kingdom is called ‘the South’.” Regina found herself grateful for tonight’s seating. “Creativity is not this kingdom’s strong suit, I’m afraid.”

“Neither are a great many things.” There was as much disdain as humor in her voice and Regina felt that maybe she could stop performing for a while. Her face could stop contorting into practiced grin and finally let her emotions run free.

They spoke for a long while and Regina found herself immersed in the conversation despite the hazy state of her mind. Amestris had also been married off in her youth but she had and her husband had come to a pleasant arrangement which allowed them both their liberties. Both were powerful and loved by their people, both ached for more autonomy to be returned to them and to Para-Upari-Sena. Regina was embarrassed that she did not know much about the subject except that the region was considered troublesome by the King and the nobility.

“Our ancestors bent the knee some life times ago.”Amestris kept her voice low but her words strong. “But our people have not forgotten. _We_ do not forget.”

“I believe I understand the sentiment. Perhaps more than you know.” Regina look at the rest of the guests, they were all too preoccupied with their drinks, their gossip and their position relative to the King. The unsuspecting prey, she thought not quite recognizing the thought fully as her own.

“As you may know, Your Majesty, we have not been happy with King Leopold or his line for quite some time.” Amestris seating might have been accidental but her presence at the feast had been anything but. This much was clear to Regina as she regarded her the determination painted all over her face.

“I have only heard whispers. The King’s Court and Council do not trust me or even acknowledge.” Regina said dispassionately. “I know the King went on several trips over the past year. Judging by his scowls and long meetings I did not assume them to run smoothly.”

“No, they did not. King Leopold has been fortunate enough to avoid war on more than one occasion.” At this Regina let surprise wash over her features, she had been so preoccupied with her magic and prophecy that she had not stopped to consider life outside them.

“What has kept you from rebelling?” The Queen asked curiously.

“Our people, Your Majesty. Their support is our greatest strength, we cannot start a bloody war our sons and daughters are not ready to fight in.”

“Your problem is then time, is not Amestris?” Regina lowered her voice. “Your sons and daughters are not yet strong enough to pick up their swords and shields. They’d all die before you could reclaim your kingdom. And time is not a luxury you can afford, a victorious war is not feasible.”

“You are twice as clever as you look, Your Majesty. Perception is such useful gift in a monarch.” The older woman sipped her red wine and indulged in a mouthful of chocolate. “A gift that would be much appreciated by Para-Upari-Sena.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” Amestris had the Queen’s full attention.

“I am simply laying down the facts, Your Majesty. If a new sovereign were to replace King Leopold and return to us some of our old power, Para-Upari-Sena would support that monarch with all the strength of its people and its gods.”

“You would respect the authority of this monarch? Never question its legitimacy?” Regina’s eyes narrowed as she considered what she was asking and finding that she cared deeply about the answer.

“We would not dream doubting their authority and claim to the throne.” Armestis eyes locked with Regina’s and the intensity behind them pleased the Queen.

“Careful, dear. Some would call that treason against your King.” The Queen savoured the words coming out of her mouth, perhaps enjoying her title for the first time since gold had crowned her head.

“I have no King.” Amestris whispered as her gaze turned to regard the King at the end of the table.

“Neither do I.” Regina heard the King’s faint voice in the distance, growing weaker.

* * *

 

Her papá’s present had been wrapped in simple white cotton. It made her think of the sheets that covered her mattress when she was a girl and knew the moon to be proud. She unwrapped it and felt her heart stop when she removed the volume from the box. It was her people’s histories, the book her papá had read to her in secret and away from her mother’s ears. Regina brought it to her face and relished in its old and damp scent, the same one she remembered from her childhood. Its pages were yellowed and she could tell its spine had been mended recently. Her papá had added a small note at the beginning:

“ _Mija, for when you’ve forgotten to smile.”_

And the Queen remembered to smile as she flipped through its pages. The last few pages contained the tale of the Proud Moon Goddess, she had forgotten much about it. It was by the Goddess’s womb that the world had been birthed, in her isolation in the Sky she thought of a people could call her own. They would all be beautiful, their skins would glow and their hair would match the night’s sky. There came a time in the first days of man when a god appeared to try and usurp her creation. He wanted her daughters and sons for himself, in his greed he wanted their prayers and adoration. This god did not give his name, for he knew his power would vanish as soon as the Goddess learned it and whispered it. So he ran from her, always hiding when she emerged from her slumber. But the Goddess was clever in her ways. One day, when the god thought her to be asleep she disguised herself as one of her daughters and prayed that the god would listen. She asked for his mercy, for his love and the god could not resist. He descended from the heavens and tried to take her for his own. The Goddess in her disguise asked for his name so that she could give herself fully to him and the god in his fever gave it to her. In that moment, the Goddess whispered it and stripped him from his power. He became a shrivelled and pale man, destined to wander aimlessly through the Goddess’s creation for all time.

The tale moved Regina in an odd way, she felt it was meant for her on this night, with its whispers of future greatness and the bitter present. However, Regina was not quite at peace with that conclusion and it quickly began eating away at her. The fog became heavier and she could feel her mind warring with itself, pulling her in different directions. Her mother’s voice rang through first, sweetly cruel, accusing her of never being enough. Her papá’s came after calling her his very own little moon. Tibiche came later, asking her to come and clean herself and bow, bow, bow and be grateful and ask for purity and forgiveness. The Dark One’s voice in its glee called her pathetic and pushed and pushed and pushed for her to be harder. Amestris and her plans joined the disjointed choir, Snow White called after her stepmother. Regina believed she heard her very own Goddess raise her voice too. It became too much, she was not strong enough and her own voice rang through asking for an escape, for help. Regina’s voice called out for the woman whose name she did not remember and begged for her pain to be taken away. Her breath became trapped in her chest and her vision went black. Her body hit her mattress but she had not felt it.

_The voices were gone, only her own remained. And it rang through as clearly as bell on a quiet morning. It felt as she could breathe again after almost drowning and she was no one but Regina. Her body felt comfortable around herself and her chest rose and fell in even breaths. Regina was safe and she was here again. Here in that place she could never fully describe but was a part of her. Her nameless partner was here too, in this place that was much hers as it was Regina’s._

_Her hand slipped into Regina’s and her whole body recognized her touch. Her lips curled into a smile and she spoke words that would forever be lost. They walked with their fingers interlaced without ever going anywhere. Her face shone and her voice carried like the echo of her favorite melody. She…she was everything, the answer to a question Regina would have never thought to ask. And she was hers, solely hers. Had she told her she loved her? She must have. The woman’s heart beat strong and true and calm rippled through her because Regina knew that her own heart matched hers here._

_It was her smile that reminded the Queen that life was not always pain._

When her eyes flew open Regina knew that her body was weak and would be for days. It had been a harsh and desperate separation of the soul. She could already feel cold sweat dripping down her spine and the limpness of her legs but it did not matter. Regina had seen and felt her again, walked hand in hand with her and felt she was free. Gone was the emptiness she had felt when her soul had returned to its flesh. Her body ached terribly but it was a small price to pay for the peace that came with seeing her and loving her again.  She would decide who she must become in the morning, now Regina would simply close her eyes and breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Para-Upari-Sena: is the old Iranian word for the district of Gandhara in western Pakistan, centered upon the cities of Peshawar and Charsadda. Upari-Sena (I.e "raised lands"), in Old Persian, refers to the Hindu-Kush mountains. Para-upari-sena (I.e "beyond the raised lands"), refers to the Peshawar Valley which is situated immediately beyond these mountains and is the location of Gandhara.  
> At first I was apprehensive about using this in a fantasy setting, but the show already uses Hispanic heritage and I rather go with the interpretation that realms are merely a reflection of each other. So the same cultures and languages exist but in different contexts. And this show DESPERATELY needs more non-Western cultures in it. Fairy-tales and legends are not a European creation and certainly do not belong to Disney.  
> The Proud Moon Goddess takes inspiration from a certain Isis legend in which she forces Ra to tell her his real name. The concept of 'real' names being powerful in more than religious tradition. The moon motif comes from the Maya goddess Ixchel. And it is a nod to Latin American countries worshiping the Virgin Mary (with different names) so heavily.  
> 


	8. Doctors and cocoa puffs

The bowl broke as it hit the wooden kitchen floor, the full fat milk and soggy chocolate cereal spilled everywhere. Emma felt a sharp ringing in her ears and her vision started to blur. She tried to brace herself on the counter top, almost slipping on the mess she had made, but it was no use. Her head was going to explode any second now and she was going to die one of those New York deaths. Except that she wasn’t in New York and well…everything went black. Emma hit the floor but didn’t know she had.

_That weird light that wasn’t quite morning or dusk covered the place is what Emma saw and instinctively she knew where she was. She knew the place better than the back of her damn hand. Emma shook her head side to side, confirming that the ringing was gone and was too happy to be able to see clearly and walk without falling over. Emma grinned. In the distance she saw someone’s silhouette and did not need to wonder who it was. It could be no one else but her. Emma felt her bare feet strong on the ground as she walked towards her._

_Shit, she really was here again. It was really her. Emma slipped her hand in hers once she reached her, somehow understanding that it was the right thing to do. In return, she smiled that old smile of hers. Fuck, if she could only remember her face when she wasn’t looking at her. But when she did it didn’t matter that she’d forget it in an instant, because how could it? They started walking but never went anywhere. Had she been desperate? Or in pain? Emma thought that maybe the other woman had been. Maybe Emma had told her that she understood, that she knew what it was like to hurt and feel broken but there was no way of knowing._

_Then Emma felt her heart almost beating out of her chest and knew it was the same as hers. It was a comforting to be so certain of it, like a warm flannel shirt and tightly laced boots on a winter’s day. Here things were as strong as a perfect circle.  And then she felt a dumb smile appear on her face, too much teeth probably, as she remembered that life was not always pain._

Emma came to, feeling her ass wet with milk and cocoa puffs. Her head felt like it had been run over by a school bus. Twice. Maybe if she punched herself hard enough she’d get knocked out again and her head would stop trying to kill her and she’d go back to _her_ again. Before she could give the idea some serious thought she was scrambling to get to the sink and hurl. She was sick, probably. With half a glass of water she took two advils, and hoped she’d keep them down. Emma walked out of her wet boxers and crawled into bed.

“Well, fuck. I don’t think this is normal.” Emma whispered to herself suddenly exhausted. Her empty stomach churned as she thought that there might be something seriously wrong with her. Not only had she blacked out and pretty much puked her whole body weight, Emma thought it had actually been worth it. She’d been with her again and so what if she felt like shit now? For almost a year Emma had tried to make herself forget about her and all the complicated feelings that she caused. It had been as if she never wanted to stop thinking about her and wanted to forget her in the same breath, because it would be easier. But she knew now, lying half naked and in pain in her bed, that she’d rather it be hard than ever forget her. Yeah. This was fucked up and definitely not normal.

* * *

 

The air stank of medicine and surgical alcohol and the plastic chair was hard on her ass. Emma had always hated hospitals and that feeling had only grown stronger after she’d given her kid away. She swallowed hard, wrung her sweaty hands together and bounced her leg up and down. No one else in the waiting room seemed to be as nervous as she was and that only freaked her out more. For a few minutes Emma thought that this had all been a stupid idea, and doctors were expensive. And it’s not like she’d blacked out again and had another probable hallucination. What if she had nothing at all and she’d spent a couple of hundred bucks to be sent home without as much as prescription? But then, what if she really was sick? What if her dream woman was just a tumor? Or maybe she was just going crazy. It wasn’t too late, she could still leave. It wasn’t like she didn’t want it to happen again. If those hallucinations, dreams, whatever the hell they were, weren’t making her sick she wouldn’t even be sitting here. Emma could leave and hope that next time she had one she’d wake up in her bed, feeling great. There was always that option, hoping for the best, though she had never actually taken it.

“Emma Swan?” A nurse called out snapping Emma out of her thoughts.

“Yeah?” Emma stood up and placed her hands inside her jeans’ pockets.

“The doctor’s ready for you now.” The nurse gestured for Emma to follow and placed her hand on the small of Emma’s back which almost made her jolt in surprise.  “It’s gonna be OK. Doctor Molinos is going to take good care of you.”

Emma only nodded in response. “Now, just that door to your left.” She still didn’t reply and did as she was told.

Doctor Molinos was going over her chart when Emma went into the room. Under her doctor’s coat she was dressed in a form fitting skirt and expensive blouse. She wore heels that probably cost more than all of Emma’s shit put together. She thought only fake TV doctors could look this.

“Have a seat, Ms. Swan.” Doctor Molinos told her briefly looking at her and gesturing at the examination table.

“Emma.” She said hoping she wouldn’t be asked to strip down and hopped on the table uncomfortably.

“Yes, Emma.” She flashed a quick and probably professional smile. “It says here that you fainted a couple of days ago after experiencing a severe headache. This was followed by vomit and general weakness for the better part of a day.”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Emma pressed her lips together, it sounded serious once it was read aloud like that.

“And this is the first time it’s happened?” The doctor didn’t sound too concerned about it and Emma didn’t know what to make of that.

“Umm..well I don’t know. Exactly.” She realized she came off stupid and Doctor Molinos stared at her, obviously confused.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it happened once before, about a year ago. But not like this. I went to bed and woke up with a massive headache and then yeah…I spent the night throwing up. At the time I thought it had been some bad sea food but…” Her word vomit wasn’t improving her image and Emma didn’t know why she cared so much what Doctor Molinos thought of her. She reminded her of someone, but she’d never met anyone like her. She would’ve remembered.

“But then it happened again. Except it began while you were awake” As she set the chart aside Emma could sense that the doctor knew there was something she wasn’t telling her. There was no fucking way Emma was sharing her dream/hallucination with a doctor. And it just felt wrong to share _her_. She was afraid that once she told anyone about her then she’d be made to sound ridiculous or worse, part of a disease. “OK. I’m just going to perform some routine examinations. Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Won’t have to get undressed or anything?” She regretted it the moment she’d said it but Doctor Molinos didn’t so much as raise an eyebrow.

“No, that won’t be necessary.” She held up a small flashlight to Emma’s face. She silently and gently inspected Emma’s eyes. Instructed her to follow her finger with them but her expression remained unreadable throughout the process. Next she checked her reflexes and Emma kept expecting a worried or relieved sigh from her but it never came. Instead the doctor backed away from her and scribbled something down in her prescription pad.

“Everything seems normal, Emma. It’s nothing to worry about. They are merely migraines. Severe, yes, but migraines in the end.” Emma thought that maybe there was warmth behind those words but she couldn’t be sure.

“Oh. That’s it?” It had almost been underwhelming even if she felt so fucking relieved. She wasn’t dying and there was no tumor causing to imagine a woman she could never remember.

“You almost sound disappointed. Is there something else?” Something flashed in the doctor’s eyes, she wanted to go deeper but Emma wouldn’t be budging any time soon. “Perhaps something you forgot to mention?”

“I don’t think so.” Emma shook her head slightly.

“I am a doctor, you know. There is hardly anything I haven’t heard before.” She crossed her arms and looked at her expectantly. “I’m not here to judge.”

“I’m pretty sure I haven’t left anything out.” Emma played dumb.

“Well, if you’re sure.” She looked as if she had been let down by her pet student as she handed her a note. “Here’s a prescription for something to help you deal with oncoming migraines. It should be taken with food. Come back if it’s not working or if it makes you feel worse.”

“Great. Thanks.” Emma slid off the table, feeling as if she should apologize but she wouldn’t.

“And I’d like you to see a therapist. My therapist.” Doctor Molinos added before Emma could leave. “If only just once.”

“What? Why?” Emma was taken aback, and had kept from swearing in shock. “You said it was only migraines.” Had Doctor Molinos read her entire medical file and decided she was fucked up? Or was there something so obviously wrong with her?

“Yes, but I’m sure you’re aware you’re not fooling me, Emma.” She was looking right through her and Emma could only avert her gaze. She didn’t know how to deal with this level of attention. “If you won’t talk to me maybe you will to someone else. It might help.”

“Do you do this for all your patients?” For the life of her Emma couldn’t understand why she cared so much. She was sure this was above and beyond the call of duty.

“Just the stubborn ones.” There was a hint of a smile.

“Ha. Well, I can’t really afford a shrink.” Her hands returned to her jean pockets, stashing her prescription deep into her left-side pocket.

“Not a problem. She doesn’t charge for the first consult.” Doctor Molinos seemed pleased to have bested Emma’s trump card. “Worst case scenario, you decide it’s not for you and lose an hour out of your day.” She handed Emma a card.

“I’ll think about it.” The doctor’s gaze turned into a glare and it made Emma rethink her words. “I’ll go, I’ll go.”

“Good.” Oh, she is so fucking smug, Emma thought.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit scary?” Emma didn’t want to admit that she was touched by the doctor’s efforts to help her, so she did what she did best; made a smart-ass comment.

“On more than one occasion.” Doctor Molinos laughed briefly and led Emma out of the examination room by the elbow.

“Ehh..umm. Thanks, doc.” Emma said awkwardly, she had never been good at handling things like this.

“Take care, Emma.” And she sounded like she meant it.

“Yeah, you too.”

* * *

 

The water had been cold in the shower that morning but Emma stayed under it for a whole half hour anyway. Showers were a good way of avoiding responsibility and cold ones were meant to energize you and cool down whatever heat you had growing inside you. She had practically ripped herself from her bathroom in the morning, she thought that if maybe she delayed long enough she’d miss her appointment with the shrink. By the time she had left her apartment, she was still making good time. Apparently it had been in the cards that she actually deal with her shit today. Now she sat in yet another waiting room messing with her jacket’s zipper and sighing loud enough to get a nasty look from the secretary. Emma had decided to dislike him, him and his stupid polo shirt. A buzzer on his desk went off and looking bored he pressed a button to stop it.

“The doctor’s ready for you now.” Apparently he had decided to dislike Emma back.

“Thanks.” Emma replied ungratefully and made her way towards the door.

Doctor Ordoñez was leaning against her desk when Emma let herself into the office and Emma already felt like bolting. But she’d see this through, somehow.

“I’m Eva, it’s great to meet you, Emma.” She sounded polite but her face was hard to read. Emma thought that maybe her superpower wouldn’t work on someone like her and she grew more uncomfortable by the second. But a voice kept telling her to stay and she did, in spite of herself.

* * *

 

The silence was painfully uncomfortable but Emma secretly hoped the shrink would get tired soon and end their session. After polite small talk she’d ask what brought Emma here and she had just blanked out. At first she’d reply that she was practically forced to come but it wasn’t exactly true and then she couldn’t come up with an honest answer she liked. Instead she slouched in her chair, shrugged and hoped that Doctor Ordoñez would carry the conversation for her but it never happened. It was entirely up to Emma if they spoke or not and it made her feel guilty.

“Why did Doctor Molinos send me here?” Emma said at long last.

“Elisa will do that from time to time. She’s very…intuitive. I’m sure she thought you’d benefit from a little help.” Doctor Ordoñez seemed to be scanning the look on Emma’s face.  “And do you need help?”

“I don’t know.” Emma answered honestly.

“That’s good.” She replied with a tilt to her head. Made her look like a dog who was trying to understand human words.

“Is it?”

“It’s better than denial and answers aren’t always straightforward. At least you admit you don’t know rather than pretend anything else.”

Emma decided she liked her. “No ‘admitting you need help is the first step’ bullshit, ha?”

“I don’t think you’d respond well to those kinds of lines. Something tells me you’ve heard them all before.”

“Good guess.” Emma was still not ready to fully share her place and her person, she wasn’t ready to be told that it was…not real. Not flesh and blood but just signs of unhappiness or whatever but she did want to make sense of it. “Can we dream of people we’ve never met?” Even that sounded ridiculous as she said.

“No.” She replied quietly. “We can’t dream of someone we’ve never seen. We are not capable of thinking someone into existence.” Doctor Ordoñez eyed her sympathetically, it could be possible she understood.

“We aren’t?” The thought was more than comforting, she wasn’t losing her mind. And of course, this meant she hadn’t made _her_ up. Not completely, anyway.

“Strictly speaking, no. We can, however, assign a face to something we want or need. Sometimes it’s the face of a stranger that passed us on the street. Our mind occasionally picks up on things behind our back.” Her voice was cool and reassuring and Emma was feeling a bit safer in her seat.

“So we dreams of things we don’t know we want?” She wasn’t sure if she was totally sold on the idea. It just wasn’t…it wasn’t good enough. It meant that she wasn’t _her her_ , but more like a thing. And _she_ wasn’t a thing. Not big a long fucking shot.

“I like to think of dreams as answers to questions we wouldn’t dare ask ourselves.” She said casually and Emma couldn’t help but wonder if this is how she spoke all the time. In smooth pearls of wisdom that would look like knock offs on someone else.

“Makes sense.” Emma nodded slightly, she liked this explanation better.

“Do you like the answers to your questions, Emma?” Doctor Ordoñez asked her softly, not taking her eyes off her.

“Yes.” Emma avoided the doctor’s eyes and looked down at her muddied and unlaced boots. “I do.”

* * *

 

It was raining and the water was slipping down her leather jacket. Some cheesy 80s rock song was playing on her shuffle and her hair would be soaked by the time she got back to her apartment but Emma didn’t care. She’d been walking around town for the better part of the day just giving herself time to think. It’s what she promised Doctor Ordoñez what she’d do before leaving and knowing she’d never see her again. Emma knew how much of a shit she was but it’s not like she could afford regular therapy. But she could at least do this, walk in a city of strangers with music blasting the fuck out of her ear drums. Emma thought back to what Doctor Ordoñez had implied earlier, that she had probably picked a face out of the crowd and made _her_ represent the things she wanted. And it made sense, except the more she thought about it the more she hated it. Emma did believe that _she_ was the answer to questions she rather not think about. There had never anything she felt so sure about before. But _she_ didn’t stand for something else, _she_ wasn’t some fucking symbol. If _she_ wasn’t real then Emma would be able to remember her face and that strong name of hers. Some stranger in a crowd walking around with her face felt wrong and just the thought of having passed her on a street in some shitty town or overpopulated city almost made her hurl again and she was done puking.

Emma still didn’t understand how _she_ could be real and not a stranger at the same time. How could she exist out in the world and in her head? And if _she_ was the answer to her questions, then what were they in the first place? Talk about a mindfuck, only she could be given the perfect answer to a question she hadn’t even thought of. Typical, just typical and she might be getting another migraine just going over it. Emma only knew what it felt like to be with her. Fucking unbreakable, like she’d never fall or be left behind. It felt like all her rough edges fit with _hers_. There was no need to trim or smooth them down, they were perfect just as they were. Emma felt so strong and comfortable in her skin with her in that place. She wanted to feel like that all the time, Emma wanted to feel like she could never be broken again, and to be as strong as she pretended to be. And that, at least, was something she something she could work for. It beat the shit out of hoping and waiting for the best. Fuck wishing upon a star. Therapy did work, after all.

Emma stopped to search for a less glamrock-y song by a pawn shop window when she spotted a necklace once she looked up from her iPod. It was pretty, she couldn’t think of a better word than that. It was circle and she had no way of knowing if the diamonds that it was encrusted with were real. She thought of how it didn’t match anything she owned and maybe it didn’t really match her either but she wanted it. A perfect circle, tight, strong and unbreakable. Yeah, she needed it.

Without thinking about twice, she went into the place.

“How much for the circle necklace you got at the window?” Emma felt water drip from her face to the place’s carpet. She must look like a crazy wet dog to the owner.

“Well, the lady that pawned it said it was worth at least two-hundred.” He had a gold tooth and a creepy smile.

“Which means you gave her seventy for it.” Emma said shortly. Cheap sales tricks didn’t work for her.

“Ah. Why don’t you tell me what you want to pay for it, then?” He was obviously less tickled at his usually pitch being shit on.

“How about eighty? Ten dollars profit.”

“Don’t insult me. One-hundred”

“Eighty-five.”

“Tch. Stop wasting my time.”

“Wow, dude. You really gotta work on your sales strategy. Ninety and you’re ripping me off.” Emma leaned against the counter, enough to make him uncomfortable and back away from it.

“Fine. It’s yours.” He was only faking defeat as he walked to the window to get it.

Emma paid him in stray ten dollar and one dollar bills she had stuffed in her wallet, jeans and jacket pockets. She felt the owner judging her as she handed him the money, as if he didn’t run a goddamn pawn shop. He handed her the necklace and it was cold and naked on her palm. Emma was careful with it, making sure the chain wouldn’t tangle as she stashed it in her jacket pocket and zipped it into safety.

With the rain hitting her face again Emma felt good. Ninety-dollars poorer and she felt good. Now she could wear her strength. She wouldn’t need to think of it, she wouldn’t need to be reminded of _her_ and who she was with her. Not when she would be able to feel it against her skin. That tiny thing in her pocket was everything she wanted to be, everything she should be. And that felt good, it felt good to know who she was gonna be. Yeah, life was hard but Emma was strong enough to take it. She was going to punch back at life and tell it who she was and there was no price to put on that. Emma walked home.

 


	9. Mirrors, Blood, and Fire

She had never realized how stale the many halls of the royal castle were, Regina could practically hear the claims of birth rights in the creaks of its floorboards. Its walls had remained intact for centuries, always housing the same royal blood. The castle had seen its dark haired, bright eyed and fair-skinned children grow to be Kings and Queens. It had seen them go from playing with wooden sticks to returning with the blood of their enemies in their sheathed and hardened swords. Yes, all of its children had worn crowns upon their heads. All of them had ruled over their people and over those to which they had no right. Heroes, that’s what Snow White called them, regurgitating the King’s words in a higher and sweeter voice. Regina was no hero, she was aware of this fact. Besides, it required a certain degree of stupidity that she could never afford to have. Heroes could plunge into danger headfirst with only a sword in hand and be welcomed home by the crowds and have their heads crowned with gold and flowers. They could march and be willing to give their lives without a second thought, with the certainty that they were dying for the greater good. She could never be that certain, nothing had ever been that simple for her. Mothers were supposed to love their children, yet Regina’s had not loved her. Kings were supposed to be good and just, and King Leopold had only allowed her to grow a single apple tree as a reward for her imprisonment. Things were not like the songs of knights and the monsters they vanquished. No, she could never be a hero.

 Regina wondered that if the castle were alive how it would feel about her walking its ancient halls. What would it say about stranger with darker blood than that of its children calling herself Queen? Would it scream in despair to know that its crown jewels rested upon her head and neck? Would it crumble when it learned that Regina had taken the throne from its children? Or would it collapse when someone who refused to call herself a hero took the sceptre in her hand? She was curious to find out. Regina was _the_ Queen, not the King’s wife, not the Crown Princess’s stepmother. There would be no stepping down when the time came. The Dark One was right, Regina saw that now, there was power in her title. Running away would serve no purpose, an escape would not help her beat fate. Regina had never forgotten her prophecy; Tibiche had told her that she would love again, so hard that it would threaten to consume her. Those words mixed together with her memories of her faceless woman, whose laughter was loud and precious to her and whose lips she knew she had kissed countless times. She remembered how on her dark days she could destroy the world if it meant finding her, and how on her brightest ones she thought she could live on hazy memories alone. Of course, Regina knew that this was the all-consuming fire she been told about. It did not matter if she could not remember the woman’s name or the color of her eyes and the shape of her mouth, she was _it_.  Regina could not help but think that if one part of the prophecy had come true if the second one would surely follow. The Queen had reached a conclusion; she could no longer afford to sit idle and the fates needed to be fought with something other than magic. The crown that had for so long felt like a burden and the castle that had been her prison would become instruments of her salvation. Becoming Regina, Queen of the White Kingdom, Ruler of the Dark Mountains, Sovereign of the West and Guardian of the Sunken Valley would keep Snow White from undoing her. Power, power would save her.

With her mind resolute, Regina steps were stronger upon the castle floors, whether they were wood or stone. Now she enjoyed the way her heeled shoes clicked against the floor and felt pride when she felt that a subject’s bows were honest. However, it was not enough to merely fill the role she had been given and had finally decided to accept. She must grow into it and make it her own. Regina had to become a different type of monarch; cunning and darker. Gone should be the days when the Queen’s light shone to frame the King and exalt his children. When the time came, people would remark that there had never been a Queen like her; one that needed no King and wielded such incredible power. Regina would be the only Queen who could steal lighting from the skies and ignite fire with her fingers and no one in any Kingdom would be able to touch her. There would never be a person who could come close to harming her and she’d be safe and strong. Strong as she should have been and had always wanted to be.

Regina set out to learn about the foundations of the White Kingdom, for she knew that if there were people at the top there must necessarily be those at the bottom, as Amestris had reminded her on the night of her birthday.  So, she began listening in at feasts and gatherings of the nobility. Rewarded gossip from her hand-maidens, even encouraged Bessie to continue to pursue the favour of a King’s guard in order to learn about the King’s meetings. Regina came to know, to no surprise, that the people of the Dark Mountains did not hold the royal family in high esteem. There were also peasants who grew corn and rode horses free of any saddles who bowed to the King while grinding their teeth and with a sharp look in their eyes. There were nobles, like Amestris, who were less than happy to be relegated at the far end of the table at the King’s council. There were concerns that were of no importance to King Leopold. These were her people, she knew, the ones that would prop her up on her throne if she gained their favour. When the time came, Queen Regina would have her loyal subjects.

There was an immediate obstacle to her freedom being bought by her royal power; her mother. Regina’s body would still paralyze with equal amounts of rage and dread when she thought of her. While Regina could make the wind blow in whichever direction she chose her mother could unleash a storm upon her. Regina could set her hands ablaze but Cora could ensnare her in a pillar of red flames. If she were to fight her mother alone, she would lose and her body would barely live to tell the tale. If she ascended to the throne while still in her mother’s grasp Regina’s power would become her mother’s and Cora did not share. A voice, which cut stronger through the fog these days, whispered that she knew exactly what she had to do. Another, which was now getting lost in smoke and clouds, faintly said that such a thing could not be done, Cora was her mother after all and it would be _wrong_. But who would look out after her if not herself, her own voice asked.  How could she survive the fates with her mother still squeezing the life out of her? Regina deemed it necessary to obtain a sort of answer from the Dark One.

There were standing by a cliff, sharp rocks lining the bottom of it. It had been a hard day’s lesson, up in these grey and hard mountains. Her arms were bruised and she was sure the cuts on her back would scar if she did not heal them later on time, but she said nothing. Instead Regina just stared off in the same direction in which he looked, it was a rare moment in which he was lost in thought. Perhaps this was the appropriate moment to seek out his help, however indirect it might be.

“If one were trying to run from someone but could never hope to escape them how could one be free of them?”

“Death, yours or theirs. But you knew that, you just were hoping for a different answer, Your Majesty.” He snickered

“Is there truly no other way?” Her tone was dry and impatient. There would be no pleading.

“You could send them far, far away where they might as well be dead.” The Dark One loved his riddles.

“Speak plainly.” Regina ordered, he did not mind her barks she had discovered. If anything, her frustration gave him immense pleasure.

“Oh, I believe that the problem with your lady mother will soon be solved, dearie. All she needs is a little push and down, down the rabbit hole she goes.” This time his laughter grew loud and he blinked away from her. Regina was left looking at the abyss wondering how long the Dark One had been leading her down this path.

The mirror was this great, big thing. It was something that did not look out of place in the chambers of a queen. It had a fine silver framing, ornate but unlike anything the Kingdom produced. It had the clear vibrations and distinct magical smell of freshly cut grass and hot iron and a note had come attached to it. “Through the looking glass” it read and there was no doubt that this gift had come from the Dark One. With a chill running down her spine, Regina understood that they day to confront her mother had finally come. She requested her finest gown for the day, it was the color of the moon on a winter’s day, she lined her eyes with a delicate dark line, and pulled all her hair away from her face making her a severe look. Regina could not wear an armor to face her mother but she could look like the ruler she was and would become. The day passed and no carriage had come, nothing that could have alerted Regina of the coming of her mother. Relief and disappointment were beginning to simultaneously settle in when the distinct smell of hay and hot metal filled her royal chambers.

“Why, look at your dear, you almost look like a queen tonight.” She felt her mother’s hand on her bare shoulder and had to keep from recoiling from it. Regina could not allow her fear to manifest on her skin.

“I AM Queen, mother.” She turned to face her and thought there was pride shining in her mother’s eyes and Regina did not know if she should feel disgusted or pleased.

“It was about time, Regina.” Cora’s finger traced her cheeks, like a loving mother would do but she recognized it as the threat it was. “And your magic, I can smell its crackling fire now. The sweetness is not yet gone, but in time we’ll be rid of it completely.” 

“We?” Regina circled her mother, as she could be facing her mirror. To her frustration, she saw that her expression was a nervous one. Regina should have remembered that it was harder to hide her feelings from her mother than it was from nobility.

“You and I, dear. Now that you have finally begun to live up to all my hard work and your royal blood.”

“Your hard work, mother?” Her face contorted out of its frightened state and Regina saw that she was almost snarling. “You worked tirelessly to make a prisoner, nanny and whore out of me! It is _my_ hand that will crown me, not yours. _Mine._ ” Her blood hot all through her body and it boiled when she felt her mother’s slap on her cheek.

“Who do you think bred you? Whose insides were torn apart to bring you into this world? Nothing is done by your hand alone. You belong to me, Regina. Everything that is yours is mine. I own you.”

“I thought the King had paid a hefty price to call himself my owner, mother.” Regina spat back feeling her fingers begging to spark a fire.

“Enough! Enough of this resentment you hold against me, child. If you weren’t so ungrateful you could see how we could rule together. The most powerful forces in this world, think of all of those that would bend the knee! Kings and Queens all bowing in the presence of our majesty. Regina, just think…”

“No.” She said firmly.

“No? How dare you insolent…” And Cora moves her hand as if to lift her up and choke her daughter her magic but she found that Regina’s feet were firmly rooted on the floor. “You cannot overpower me, dear. You could not possibly hope to come out on top if a fight broke out between us or that silly little head of yours filled with too much grandeur to see the obvious? Just give in, child. Give in to your _mamá.”_

That had been that inflated the Queen’s chest with rabid fury, to hear her mother call herself mamá. What she had called herself so many times after she had punished her. After her skin had broken and as she tried desperately not to cry because tears would only earn her more blows. It’s the name her mother used when she convinced Regina that her pain and wounds were well deserved. Mamá had made sure Regina felt guilty when she had been innocent. It would not work now. A scream filled with the years of despair and anger came out strong from her lungs as her magic pushed her mother against the mirror. She felt herself become petrified at the sight of her mother being swallowed by the cool looking glass before it shattered upon hitting the floor. Her mamá was nowhere, gone through the looking glass. Gone through a place so far away she might as well be dead. What had she done? What was necessary, replied more than one voice.

If anyone had heard her scream and gone into her chambers, Regina did not know. She had already made herself go down her usual hidden passages and down to the stables to jump on Rocinante’s back. The fine white fabric of her gown tore as she rode hard and brushed past twigs and became sullied with the Bear Wood’s mud but she did not pay it any mind. Regina was riding to Tibiche’s shack, feeling tears hot on her cheeks. She longed for the old woman’s stiff embraces and her strong coffee, the Queen wanted her to call her _mi niña_ and tell her that she had been stupid not to ask for her help. Regina wanted to sit by her stove and be rubbed down with an aromatic healing oil and pass out on her deer-skin carpet and wait until her soul left her body. She wanted to open her eyes, with her soul freshly returned from her place and from her nameless woman, and see Tibiche hovering over her, with her long grey braid falling over her shoulder. But most of all, Regina needed to feel like she could still be loved.

The old woman received standing some yards from her shack, holding up a blanket up to her as Regina collapsed into her. Tibiche said nothing as she sobbed and felt darkness and fire trying to take her over, she only led her inside and settled Regina into her old arm chair.

“You smell of pure coal, mi niña. Hot and furious.” Tibiche told her quietly, handing her a mug of tea. Regina drank it between sobs, slowly feeling its calming effects. “Are you going to tell me what’s gotten you like this? Llorando a moco tendido.”

“Mi mama…” Regina began to say when she realized that mamá was not a word she should use. “My mother…she’s gone. I made her gone.” It was about as truthful as she could manage, Regina avoided Tibiche’s eyes and stared at the half empty mug between her hands.

“Ay niña. I…I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this.” The old woman sighed and sat in a stool opposite to Regina. “I should have stopped you. Kept you from the Dark One. I thought…I thought that maybe you’d come to your senses. How wrong I was…” Tibiche’s sadness cut deeper than her mother’s wrath and Regina was sorry she had failed her. But there was no real regret in her heart, grief yes, but no remorse.

“It had been a long time coming, Tibiche. I don’t think anyone could have kept me from this.” Regina said honestly her voice barely above a whisper. She didn’t want Tibiche blaming herself and she wanted to make her understand. It wasn’t forgiveness she wanted, not really. It was acceptance and love she craved and felt her stomach turn into a knot as she considered that she may not get it.

“This is Rumpelstiltskin’s hand controlling you. Niña, you just can’t see it. The Dark One is stringing you along like a fisherman would to a tilapia.” Tibiche shook her head. It was the first time she heard the Dark One’s true name and half expected him to blink into the room as if he had been summoned. Getting past the shock of having learned her other teacher’s name, Regina considered the old woman’s words. Even though she could not deny that she too believed the Dark One had conspired to make tonight’s events happen but it would be wrong to lay all the blame on him. For many years she had fantasied about standing up to her mother, being free of her. It was she who had pushed her mother through a looking glass, not the Dark One.

“That could be.” Regina turned her gaze upward and saw that Tibiche’s dark eyes were glassy. “But I did it willingly, Tibiche. I did it for me. I wanted to be safe. Now, now I am.” Regina hurt to see Tibiche’s expression grow even sadder.

The old woman suddenly leapt to her feet and pulled Regina up from the arm chair.

“It was the easy way out. But what’s done is done, a lo hecho pecho. But come with me out back.” She took Regina’s hand and led her outside, to the shrine of their Proud Moon Goddess. “We must ask for forgiveness. You and me, both. Ask Her to cleanse us and wash us over. Orá conmigo, pray so that She will hear us and be merciful.” Tibiche’s voice was commanding and pleading all at once, she was desperate, Regina understood. Her teacher had run out of options and she had nothing left but to ask for her mistakes to be erased. The old women knelt in front of their Goddess and tugged at Regina’s hand so that she’d do the same.

“No.” And Regina felt that the word cut through all the sounds of the woods. “I won’t kneel.”

“Niña, don’t be so hard-headed. You need to ask Her to clean you. Ask for Her forgiveness.”

“But I am not sorry, Tibiche. I don’t need to be forgiven.” Regina broke free from the old woman’s grasp.

“Listen to yourself!”

“I am!” She was growing exasperated. “She would not want me to ask for forgiveness. Our Goddess is proud, not merciful. She would not begrudge a daughter of hers her salvation, however violent! Or did you forget that she saved us from the nameless god through deception and cruelty!” Regina words were definite, Tibiche could not argue against them, she was sure.

“Words like that are leading you straight into darkness. What a dark Queen you would make if you do not turn back. It is not too late, you can still be mi niña.” Regina was moved when she heard the affection in Tibiche’s voice but she realized that the old woman would make her flame small to keep by her side, away from the dark.  And Regina could no longer make herself smaller, no matter for whom it was.  

“Can’t I be both, Tibiche?” Regina asked with her emotions raw on her words. “Can I not be the Queen and su niña?”

“No, you can’t, Regina. There is no middle ground between the dark and the light. Not like this.” Tibiche wiped her tears away before they could run down her cheeks. “You have to choose.”

“Then I am sorry” Something was tearing inside herself and her heart felt heavy under her chest.  But the fog was thinning and one of the voices became dimmer until it was something less than a whisper. “I cannot stay with you.” 

“Then farewell, Your Majesty. I only wish I could have served you better.” Hearing her titles from Tibiche stung and tears flooded Regina’s eyes once more. “Should the Queen come looking for me, she will not find me.”

“No, I had assumed as much.” She straightened her back as if to give herself strength. “Goodbye, Tibiche.” The Queen took one last look at the old woman, her shack and the woods she had come to love. It would be the last time she saw them. She mounted Rocinante and headed back to her castle.

* * *

 

Years progressed and in secret, the Queen grew stronger. Her magic became darker and her thoughts grew sharper. However, to the blind eyes of King Leopold and Snow White, she remained Regina the lesser Queen, stepmother to the heir to the throne. They still only saw whom they had handpicked and bought one afternoon some years ago. How could they know of the darkness moving deep inside? The darkness that just begged to be unleashed on them. It was well hidden behind smiles and delicate dresses and gowns. But all magic, especially the magic strong with darkness, had a price and it came with a heavy one for Regina. It was becoming harder and harder to separate her soul from her body. It was painful to commute with the world like this, Regina remembered Tibiche’s words. Her encounters with her nameless woman grew brief, lasting only an hour at most. The return of her soul to her body became more violent and weakening. The whole of her would shake and a fever would run high on her flesh. Whatever her handmaids offered her to eat she did not keep down. But even then, with her body as limp as a rag doll and her dry mouth, Regina thought it was all worth it. Maybe one day she would be able to remember her name and find her face in some corner of the Kingdom that would soon be hers. Regina kept whatever memories she had of her safe within the confines of her soul, not even daring to wonder what she would do if she lost them.

* * *

 

 “No gifts are required to mark this special day, for they all pale in comparison to the greatest gift of all my daughter, Snow.” King Leopold was beaming as he gazed at his daughter, who had grown into a young woman now.

“Father…” The Crown Princess had perfected the adequate amount of humility and regalness, the Queen noted remaining stiffly seated at the royal table. She watched Snow White move to join her father and heard the nobility clapping for their princess and beloved King. “Father, you make me blush.”

“Every day I look upon your face, and I am reminded of your dearly departed mother. Who, like you, truly was the fairest in all the land.” The clapping from the King’s favorite lords and ladies turned louder and Regina felt her blood run hot. Knowing her absence would not be noted she left the table quietly, in hopes of cooling her anger. The humiliation to be an unacknowledged thing at a table full of bright eyed blue bloods was like a knife to her gut.

The Queen to the only place that brought her any sort of comfort, her lonely apple tree in the palace gardens. She was cutting an apple free when she heard two drunk voices heading her way. They were loud and careless, no doubt thinking the royal gardens would make a fine place for a covert conversation or for whatever other plans they held. Regina cloaked herself in darkness and hid behind a tall shrub.

“You would have thought the King would have wanted a son this time around.” One of them said, Regina could smell the wine that heavily laced his words. “All kings want sons. To hold their swords and fight their wars.”

“Careful, Matthew. Sounds like you dislike the Crown Princess.”

“You misunderstand me, per usual. I am merely saying” A hiccups escaped him and he rested his body against a wall. “That it is strange that the Queen has not yet produced a son. Is the brown tart also barren in addition to being a cold fish?” Regina could scorch him but she had a feeling the conversation might yield something useful.

“Shhh…you’ve really had too much wine. I thought the fresh air would do you good. You only seem to become worse.”

“Aaaah…Theodore, such a stick in the mud. I know you find it odd as well.”

“Well, if you must know, you sloppy drunk, the King is relieved that the Queen has never given him children.” The man thought he was whispering.

“His Majesty confided in you?”

“He did.” He was so proud of his accomplishment, though she thought that he was probably just a skilful eavesdropper. “Not only is his love for his daughter so great but he said he would have no half breeds running around his castle, calling themselves princes and princesses.” His tongue clicked as if he had something particularly clever.

The Queen slipped from her hiding place, not even bothering with the two drunk idiots in the royal gardens. The time had come, the time to sit upon the golden throne and hold the sceptre in her grasp. There would be no princes, no royal children of her own with a darker complexion, Regina had decided. No child of hers would have their birth right questioned because they carried her blood, she would not wish the burdens of disloyalty and hate on them. The Queen had never wanted the King’s heirs. She had spent many nights washing his essence from herself and days brewing potions so that his seed might die but to hear that any child of hers would be deemed a half-breed, an animal, was a particular brand of deep and evil hurt. She’d be rid of it, tonight. Regina would ensure that no blood child would be born from her.

The Queen sat naked in her cold bath tub and drunk a whole vial of the potion she had prepared many times over the years, knowing she would never need it again. Regina felt as if a thousand knives slowly punctured her womb and tears rushed down her face as she watched blood oozing from between her legs. Regina bit down on her lip to keep from screaming in agony and she swore right there that hers would not be the only blood spilt.

* * *

 

Regina was perched up in a tree, hidden by the heavy foliage and a cloaking incantation. With careful eyes she watched the hunting party move through the woods. The men’s voices were loud and proud, unaware of what would unfold that day. It was the annual summer hunt, the King and his best men had set out to hunt a silver stag. Truly, there would be no better opportunity to skewer more than one animal. It was only about waiting for the precise second in which King Leopold would die. By her hand yes, but through one of his guard’s weapons.

From her hiding place up in the trees, she saw the stag appear. It was strong and graceful, the kind of beauty that should strike fear and demand admiration from others. It would not be long before one the King’s men saw it.

The captain of his guard raised his spear when he laid eyes on the beast and Regina almost laughed because she should have known that the King did not kill his own trophies. The moment had come, King Leopold being positioned just in front of his most trusted soldier. Regina raised her hand just as the captain raised his spear, ready to kill the stag. With a delicate flick of her wrist, the Queen readjusted the direction of the spear as it flew from the captain’s grasp. It went through the King’s right side and his scream pierced the quiet of the woods. His blood ran down his body as he fell of his horse and the guards and noble lords gathered around his dying body. They were frantic and yelled at each other and the captain went down on his knees, horrified by what he had done. Regina only wished that she could have seen the look upon his eyes as he died. She had wanted to be free. Now, now she was.

* * *

 

The King had died, his body rested in the royal chapel waiting for his subjects to pay his respects. The Queen, with the distraught Crown Princess on her arm, had visited him once. Of course Regina had to inspect her kill, make sure that the thing that lay there was just dead flesh and in no way her warden. He was just a shrivelled and pale body in the end.

It was a clear and cool night now and Regina was for the first time enjoying the fresh breeze that ran through her royal chambers. Regina thought that it was perhaps the first time she could breathe freely. There would be no king entering her chambers with forceful demands, no mother pin her against the wall. Only a stepdaughter remained but she was willing to push that to the back of her mind for tonight. The King was dead and she was free and there was only thing she yearned for, meeting the woman with the sweet laugh again. She had smashed her own shackles and the White Kingdom’s royal crown, not the simple regent’s crown, would sit upon her head and Regina would be free in her power. Free and capable to search the Kingdom for her. Go to its very confines looking for her, it did not matter that she could never remember her name, only how it felt on her lips, nor her face, only the softness of it. Regina thought that surely when she found her there would a strong pulse between them, and she would just know she had finally found her. However, the hope of finding her was not enough tonight. The Queen recognized this as greed but she did not much care about its nature. She simply wanted and Regina would not deny herself, no matter what the cost.

Separating her soul from her body had grown more challenging with the passing years and the extra aid of a mixture of herbs and leaves was required to achieve it. A faint and brief smile graced the Queen’s lips as she remembered the old woman who had first given her the brew before she drank it in gulps. Her garments lay discarded on the floor and she settled her bare back against the mattress and hoped that this time she would remember her. Regina wished with all her strength to tell her that she would find her soon, that she’d move mountains and dry out the rivers if she had to. Her body began shaking violently and this time the Queen felt how her soul ripped from her body.

_Regina held on to her desperately as she felt her name slipping from her own lips. She loved her, loved her so much that she was sure she burned brighter than the Sun. Maybe outside this place she had made herself free and safe but here with her she was ecstatic. Everything else was unimportant, if she could just have her then everything else could fade away._

_The woman’s movements were often clumsy and ungraceful but her way with her just radiated honesty and devotion. And Regina knew, or maybe she remembered, that she always persevered. She had felt her heart and it was the greatest thing Regina had felt under her fingers. Perhaps she had told Regina that she carried her strength in a circle above her heart. That she could feel Regina on her skin every day, but she could never be sure. All words in this place floated away from them and they would never know whether they had been ever been said at all. When they separated, Regina knew, they would only be able to remember how the other’s lips felt on their own and the strength of their embrace._

The Queen could not feel her arms and there was numbness spreading down her back.

_Regina was slipping away from her and for the first time fear and panic invaded her in this place. She could not lose her, not now._

Her head throbbed and her eyes stung with salt.

_“Regina!” She called out and the Queen wanted to think that she had promised she would find her as she tightened her grip around her hand, unwilling to let go. But all her strength wasn’t enough. Her power was of no use her and Regina was gone. Gone, to where she could not follow._

Regina wailed with no restraint and with all strength she had left in her cursed body. She felt like was dying, an agony she had never known before. There was no part of her, material or immaterial, that did not hurt. The whole castle shook with her pain as she felt darkness seep into the threads of her heart. Her bed was lit itself in a red and strong fire as Regina realized that the price of her freedom had proven to be too great this time. Her body will never again tolerate the separation of its soul, it would die before it let her return to her, to that place they had become their own. The darkness was too great in her now. The Queen screamed as everything around her burned and she understood that all she had left was her power.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter hurt. A lot. 
> 
> I always took issue with how killing the King in the show was handled because of it having racist and misogynistic currents.


	10. Like a Gremlin

 

It is a late spring morning and the Sun is getting warmer and warmer with each day. Bees have started buzzing around and the city seemed fresher and cleaner. It also meant that Emma could enjoy a 10 am black coffee with a bear claw at the park while not bothering with a heavy jacket. There was nowhere she had to be today, no asshole she had to chase down for money or any errand she needed to run. She can just lie in the Sun, like a sleeping dog. This is her favorite park, it is far enough from her crappy apartment and her usual places that a day spent here feels like the closest thing to a vacation she can afford. The trees are strong looking and huge, big enough that if anyone wanted to live up in them they could. Flowers are not arranged in overly-complicated designs or patterns that were actually ugly, they look like they just happened to grow there. As if they had always been rooted in that spot. That is the closest thing to real magic that the world had, Emma thinks.

Spring is also time for prime people watching. Not that she was a creep, but Emma did enjoy imagining what sort of life strangers led. It’s why she was so good at what she did, all she had to do was look at someone and she’d just _know_ whether they were morning a person or not, if they lied about how much sugar they liked in their coffee or if they would ever cheat on their partner. Yeah, people were easy to read most of the time but it didn’t mean the habit grew boring with time. Once in a while Emma did get surprised and it made her be on constant lookout for someone who’d do just that. Dickwad or not. But today is day for bear claws, maybe dozing off under a tree, and waking up with dirt on her clothes.

Emma hears giggling getting closer to her spot on the grass and boy ran straight past her. The kid is being chased and he is loving every second of it. He is in this stiff grey private school uniform and his pants are stained with grass. He looks around six and has dark hair. With her heart beating a little faster, Emma wonders if that was what her son would look like now. The boy’s mother shows up right behind him, she has obviously given him the advantage in whatever game they are playing. And she can’t help but think about the life mother and son had together. It is a Wednesday morning and there are no other kids around, so Emma can assume that the mother had taken the boy out from school for a day at the park. A good mom would do that. The woman isn’t dressed too differently from her son, the same grey color. It looks like she had thrown off to the side whatever blazer she had been wearing and slid out of her heels. Emma cracks a smile when she sees that her pantyhose are ripping all over the place and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t fucking care and it is probably the best thing Emma had seen in a while.  Whatever office (and probably law-related) job the woman has doesn’t matter because her kid wants to run and tumble in the grass with her. She feels herself reaching for necklace, lying against her skin and tracing its circle over and over again, trying to find her strength. Emma wishes so badly that her kid had found a mother like that, one who’d pick him up from behind and kiss his cheeks until he was squirming in her arms.

“Mamá, mamá!”The boy tugs at her hand to bring down his mother to his level. Once she is, he grins and says “Te quiero!” and tackles her as his mom laughs and laughs and tells him that she loves him too. More than he could ever know.  And now Emma feels like the goddamn intruder she was. Looking away from them won’t be enough, so Emma gathers her bag of pastries and her coffee and finds a tree she liked. Quickly, she wipes the tears that were stinging her eyes. And God, she would never be fucking over it. Her back rests against the trunk and shit, she needs _her_. It is messed up having the closest thing to a person is a woman she can never remember, but it is who Emma needs. The cool metal of her necklace isn’t doing it for her today. Pain starts sneaking in through the back of her head and Emma knows what it is. A damn migraine is setting in. They aren’t as strong as they used to be, but it was still going to be a bitch to get through. At least she knows it means one thing, she’ll see _her_ again and Emma throws her head back and closes her eyes.

_Her arms are around Emma and maybe she is holding on a little tighter today. Her breath is heavy on her neck and Emma understands that she had wanted to feel her just as much as Emma. She had missed her and she had wanted to say as much. Maybe they could stay like this forever, in this place where there was no real time. Here, where they always had been and everything felt so fucking familiar and natural but still didn’t make an inch of sense. Her hand traces the circle above Emma’s heart and her eyes are searching and Emma could have nodded in reassurance for them both. That’s you, that’s us, Emma had wanted to say but would never know if she managed to get the words out._

* * *

 

She is turning twenty-five today, a quarter of a century old and Emma is spending it driving. George Harrison, of all people, is coming off from the car stereo. The Beatles had never been her thing, but he is alright with his mellow songs, sometimes. All of Emma’s stuff, packed into a mess inside one lousy dufflebag, is in the backseat of her car. There had been a pull of sorts these days, practically lighting a fire under her ass to get her to move. It is pointing her North, like a compass would and for someone as directionless as Emma, this was downright fucking hilarious. She’d given the landlord a week’s notice, because hey, she wasn’t a total asshole. This is the most Emma had ever planned ahead and let herself make her birthday mean something else for once.

Moving on a hunch was probably one of her dumber plans, but definitely not the dumbest. It feels right and Emma was glad she doesn’t owe anyone explanations. Her whole life can be packed in ten minutes and she can drive to wherever her gut told her to stop. It isn’t great, but it was better than she had been before. And for that, Emma is grateful. Life so far had been about learning how to take a punch but now Emma can not only roll with them but she can punch back. It feels right, the metal of her necklace on her skin reminds her that it is a damn good thing. But with one quick glance at the empty passenger seat, Emma wonders what it’d be like to have someone in it. Well, not just anyone. That’d be better than good, she knows that. Emma takes whatever she got for now and what she has is  a feeling telling her to keep driving. And so she does.

With every sign that Emma leaves behind she pictures a different life she could have in every town. In one she lives in a small house with a mutt of a dog and eats at the local diner every day, in the other she works with wood. In the next one, she lives in a boat and wakes up at the crack of dawn to fish. In another, she becomes one of those people who own a bike and takes up drinking tea and quits coffee. But they all feel wrong and Emma doesn’t grasp why. She just knows that she needs to keep going and stop when it does feel right. No idea when that will be, but Emma figures that she’ll know when she knows.

A greasy McDonald’s bag now sits in the empty car seat and the air inside the bug stinks in that amazing yet gross way that comes with cheap junk food. Emma is parked at a rest stop and it is dawning on her that she might have to sleep in the car because she’d been an idiot and driven too far and past every damn motel until she almost ran out of gas. Because of-fucking-course. She munches on her fries before they turned into a cold circle of hell and practically swallows the burger whole. There is no shame in gulping down the ice cream she had ordered to top off her trash feast of a meal. And Emma has zero problems with undoing her pants and sighing in relief. She throws her head sideways and catches a glimpse of the night sky through one of the bug’s mirrors. It is clearer tonight than usual, and had she ever learned the constellations maybe Emma would have been able to name them.

Not really knowing why, Emma can’t tear her eyes away from the mirror and just lies still on the old car seat. Her body begins to feel lighter and numbness spreads through her skull making it clear just is happening and she feels herself smile before blacking out.

_The stars are ridiculous tonight, Emma feels like telling her. She wants her to see them and for once hated the not-morning-not-night sky of this place. Emma thinks she might have pouted like a five year old kid who didn’t get to blow the candles on their cheap birthday cake but fuck…her laughter, she could feel it. It shakes and vibrates and her body feels tingly and all kinds of amazing. This is what it is like to belong. To not want to cut and run, to get out and never look back. To not have to live with the shadow of so many what-ifs. Emma breathes her in and thinks she smelled of home, a scent she still cannot not recognize and won’t remember when she came to. Just like she can never quite figure out the way her eyes shine or how her nose scrunches up when she laughed. Maybe when it mattered, when it really mattered, Emma would remember everything about her. But for now, this is good enough._

When she opens her eyes it feels like the light from the parking lot is stabbing her eyeballs. With a groan and her head throbbing like a motherfucker Emma rummages her duffle bag for her migraine medicine. These little side effects she’d never enjoy, but at least they aren’t as bad as they used to be. Wincing at yet another bright light, like a Gremlin, she checks the time on her phone. It is barely an hour since she passed out. The blackouts used to last hours and knock her on her ass for the better part of a day. Now they were lasting less and Emma wonders just what that meant. A normal person would be happy that their migraines weren’t so bad anymore but Emma is worried. She wishes with all her strength that this doesn’t mean that one day the headaches will stop and _she_ will be gone. But for now, she closes her eyes feeling her head pulsating with pain. Tomorrow Emma will drive off again.

* * *

 

Her baby blanket is making her nose itch, a half-awake Emma realizes.  It is her body’s way of telling her to stop skimping on detergent but she wouldn’t budge on this. She likes it smelling like cheap detergent because that strong chemical smell had been one of the few constants in her life. It had been with her since the day she was born and it’s where her name had come from. Emma always wondered if it had even been her baby blanket, if it had been meant for her at all. Who is to say that the assholes who left her by the side of the highway didn’t just swipe a baby blanket? Still. It was hers now and had been for almost twenty seven. With the soft fabric rubbing against her face and her eyes shut Emma asks, not for the first time, just who the hell her parents had been.

When she was a kid it had been so black and white, she had been left behind and there was no way good people do that. She was better off without them, that’s what kid Emma had told herself whenever she caught herself thinking too long about this. But now, eight years after she had signed her son away she understands things a little better. Nine months Emma had been with him, felt him kick and press against her bladder and she had loved him. He had been safe inside her, there in her belly she had given him all the things she would never be able to give him outside. Ugly and snot covered tears had run down her face for weeks after she’d given him away. Post-partum depression they had called it, _well fuck that._ No one who spoke to her then had given birth handcuffed to a hospital bed and heard her kid cry as they took him away from her forever. No one had known shit and she had never felt more alone. Just thinking about that time in prison makes Emma clench her fists around the blanket and grind her teeth. There will never be a time when she wouldn’t be angry, when she had gotten out she had been told to be grateful that juvie had set her back on track. It had taken her all of her strength not to tell them in just how many ways they could go fuck themselves.

But Emma did start questioning what she had assumed for so long about her birth mother. She had loved her kid so much and Emma had only held him for a few minutes. Had her own mother loved her? That’s what mothers were supposed to do, after all. It’s what she had done, it’s what made her want to give him the best life she could. Away from her. Did this woman also think Emma’s best shot at life was with someone else? If she had then why leave her at the side of the road? Fucking left to either freeze or starve. Emma had read the newspaper clipping, she was barely a few hours born when she was found. An ugly baby, but a healthy one.  There are so many things many things that she gets now but others that still confuse and upset her. Maybe her mother had loved her too. She could be awake right now too. Wondering what it would have been like to send her off to school in the morning, carrying her on her hip, and telling her to stop fussing when she dealt with the knots in her hair. Yeah, maybe Emma had been loved too. She buries her face into blanket and really wishes she could just stop thinking, even if just for one goddamn minute.

_Here someone loves her, Emma knows for sure. There is this way she said her name. It isn’t sweet or even too warm but she knows what she means, she knows that she loves her. Of course she still doesn’t know how it is that they understand everything about each other or even how they are in this place, but there is never a need to ask questions in this place. Not that they would ever remember the answers if there were any. It seems to Emma that she also had wondered her whole life whether or not she was loved and fuck, Emma really hopes that she had told her just how much she did. Because no one, especially not her, should be left wondering if they had ever been loved or not. When the time came she better damn well tell her that._

There was that pounding again, but this time she is too lazy to even consider getting out of bed and search for her meds. It will pass, these days they were weaker and weaker. Besides, Emma doesn’t feel one-hundred percent like shit. This warmth spreads through most of her body and her grip on her blanket loosens and she wasn’t trying to pulverize her teeth anymore. It was making up for the general suckiness of the migraine. If before these not-dreams-dreams had wrecked her in every possible way now they were this weird safety net. Ha, what would shrinks have to say about that? Emma laughs at herself and rolls to her side and sleeps.

 

* * *

 

_This time it’s different, Emma can feel it. Everything seems more…just more. She can’t really describe it. She is shining so bright and Emma feels herself moving towards her, kinda like a plant grows toward the Sun’s light. There is desperation and hunger this time, she can tell because she grabs at her like she the world will run out of Emma Swan. Maybe Emma remembers that she can be this great fucking fire and there is a constant threat of the flames growing higher and higher but she also knows, somehow, what it is to have those flames guard you and let you wield them. She thinks that she had talked about her necklace again, told her that everywhere she went she could feel her on her skin but not that Emma could ever know for sure._

_For the first time, there is darkness in this place and it is the worst thing Emma has ever seen. She blinks and the other woman begins to slip away from her, no matter how tight her grasp is on her. There is fire too and shit is there was pain, horrible pain. It is like the perfect shitstorm of darkness, fear, and agony. Emma screams out her name trying to hold on to her, maybe promising her that she’d save her, saying that there was a way out of this. But then there is no hand to cling to, only a void._

Her whole face is wet and her eyes are practically glued shut. Emma’s throat aches, she had been screaming her lungs out in her sleep. That had been the last time she would ever see her, she knows, she fucking knows. Of course this would happen to her and Emma would laugh if she had anything left inside her. This terrible, dark emptiness she had clashes with how normal and not-sick her body feels. Emma almost wishes she could hurl and take a couple of pills that could make the pain away. Instead she just lies there, her skin clammy and naked under her covers. For the second time, however unlikely it might have seen fourteen years ago, Emma is in mourning. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This is the mere essence of life and she almost feels stupid for letting her guard down. She’ll keep moving, there was no use in wallowing. That had never done her any good, instead Emma will bury this deep along with her one memory of her son and only dig it up when she couldn’t help it. The metal of her necklace will never let her forget entirely, it is still cool and strong against her skin. That feeling Emma will keep, it was the closest thing to a fully formed memory she has. A perfect circle. Maybe if she repeats that to herself it will eventually sound less like a joke and more like the truth.

* * *

 

It is her birthday again today. Twenty-eight years old and Emma is only looking forward to the cupcake she’ll be eating at the end of the day. She stretches out and looks at the place she was subletting. Smooth and sleek and nothing like her, but it really is a great place. Better than she could have ever hoped for when she was growing up. Probably better than what the average bail bondsperson has. She had been working up towards catching one particular bag of dicks and today is the day she’ll get him. Of all the things he had fallen for an online profile and not even for one who paid for discretion. Total moron, really. Emma had figured him out the minute his wife had told her that she loved him _in spite_ of everything, with women married to shitheads that usually meant cheating, beating or both. This guy, he is just a sleezebag who thinks he always had an in with women. Probably blonde college girls. She’ll use brute force only if it was necessary or if he simply pisses her off. Not like it wouldn’t be well deserved.

Sometimes the truth is more powerful than any fantasy she could peddle, so sitting in that restaurant in one of her few dresses, Emma sells him her story. Orphan girl alone on her birthday, choosing to spend it with him. Ugh. He is the worst, a coward and a cheat. She can’t be with this asshole for longer than was absolutely necessary. So Emma tells him who HE is and what she is and sure enough, he flips the table and runs away, just like she expected him to. He isn’t the special brand of shit that would surprise her. “Really?” Is all she manages to say and it isn’t too long until she catches up with him, fumbling with his keys in his painfully boring car.

“You don’t have to do this, okay? I can pay you. I got money.” The fucking nerve.

“No, you don’t. And if you did, you should give it to your wife to take care of your family.” Maybe, just maybe Emma can force him to do something decent for once.

“The hell do you know about family, huh?” He barks back at her. And that’s it, the thing that pisses her off.

“Nothing.” She replies after she’s smashed his head against the steering wheel.

Emma is back at her place before she knows it, placing a star candle on the cupcake she’d been looking forward to. For the first time ever, she makes a wish as she blows her star and it’s stupid, but she wishes she wasn’t alone anymore. The doorbell rings and for a second Emma thinks that maybe life takes things too literally. She expects some delivery guy with the wrong address or someone looking for the actual tenant of the place. Instead it’s a boy, dark-haired and so young.

Emma’s dumbstruck and she never did learn how to deal with kids as a grownup. “Uh, can I help you?” She says stupidly.

“Are you Emma Swan?” He asks too excitedly and just what the hell is going on?

“Yeah. Who are you?” And with her heart beating a little faster, Emma knows what he’s going to say.

“My name’s Henry. I’m your son.”

* * *

 

She’s hardly breathing as she’s driving the kid back home. Back to his parents who are probably scared out of their ass, and she had told him as much. Her knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel, listening to Henry talk about fairytales and how she, Emma, was the answer to all his problems. He is a sharp kid, too smart even. Threatened to call the cops on her and accuse of her kidnapping, and for thirty long seconds she was actually fucking terrified. She had wanted to pull his parents’ number from him and put him on a bus, forget that this all happened. But…she couldn’t. Not with the way the kid looks at her, not knowing about the wish she had made earlier tonight. They arrive to a town in Maine and it looks like a post-card and the kid is still being so goddamn difficult. Refusing to tell her where he lives and it’s only when his shrink gives her the address that she manages to find the house. The Mayor’s house, and it’s huge and why would he run to find her of all people?

“Please don’t take me back there.” Henry begs and she wants to tell him that she’s had enough because doesn’t he know how lucky he is?

“I have to. I’m sure your parents are worried sick about you.” Emma tries her fucking best to sound patient.

“I don’t have parents. Just my mom, and she’s evil.” He shoots back and something drops in Emma’s stomach.

“Evil? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?”

“She is. She doesn’t love me. She only pretends to.” And she wants to scream.

With a sigh she steadies herself, looking at this boy who doesn’t believe he’s loved when he has all the markings of love on him. “Kid… I’m sure that’s not true.”

And sure enough, his mom rushes out of the house. Her face is shiny with tears and she doesn’t stop running until she reaches them. “Henry! Henry…Are you okay? Where have you been? What happened?” She sounds like her whole world had crashed on her and had just been rebuilt by just seeing her kid. Shit, was this kid lucky.

“I found my real mom!” He yells back and runs straight past her.

She lifts up her gaze to look at Emma and there just absolute fucking heartbreak on her face. Her eyes are bloodshot and her mouth open, in shock. Emma’s dumbstruck for the second time tonight, because she is definitely the most beautiful woman she’s met. And there’s this thing that she can’t put her finger on…

“You…you’re Henry’s birth-mother?” She manages to say and Emma feels her eyes scanning her. She feels naked.

“Hi.” A sheepish smile is all Emma can manage, because what else can she say? She can’t stop staring and feels like a jerk for even thinking about just how she…just wow.

“I’ll just go…check on the lad. Make sure he’s alright.” A guy Emma felt guilty for not noticing before says and awkwardly sets off after the kid.

“How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you’ve ever tasted?” She says with more composure and politeness Emma would have expected out of anyone. Emma tries not to keep track of the last tears she’s shedding and she’ll probably be wiping them away soon. No, she isn’t the type that likes to be caught crying. The kid really did a number on her.

Emma gives her a weird a half-shrug and another nervous smile. She probably thinks she’s an idiot. “Got anything stronger?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had actually really been looking forward to this, I couldn't keep them apart for much longer.


	11. Absolutismo y Realismo Mágico

Snow White, Crown Princess, is all too happy to let Regina reign in her stead. Even if she is of age, her grief does not let her take the throne. She will hardly see anyone and spends her days walking the halls of the castle. She expects Regina to be the stepmother that read to her and explained all the unknowns, except Regina is the Queen now. She sits on the golden throne when she holds audiences and signs ordinances with royal authority. But of course it is not enough, how it could it be? Her title still had regent attached to it and the great noble lords and ladies of old remained disdainful, believing that Snow White will eventually ascend to the throne. What would become of her if that ever came to pass? Would she be a shadow, wandering the Kingdom with nobles looking at her the way a farmer looks at a lame horse? No, something had to be done. She had started along this path a long time ago, she could not lose her power and freedom to destiny. The Queen needed to finish what she had begun the second she first spoke to the Dark One. The Crown Princess had to die. It was the only way to triumph over the hand life had dealt her.

 

First she convinces Snow White that a trip to the summer palace would do her well, the water of the lake do wonders for her mood, she tells her. Through tears Snow agrees but asks that her stepmother join her, “I will in time, dear. There are still matters still needing resolution here.” Regina says with the subdued and sweet tone she has come to despise. Preparations are made for the Princess’s trip and there is just enough time for Regina to find a huntsman to carry out a plan for her. To attack the royal carriage and drag the Princess into the forest.

 

“You will bring me her heart. Cut it out of her chest, no need to be gentle.” Regina tells him as she hands him a silver coffer for the keeping of hearts.

 

“And if I refuse?” He challenges her. He is rough and unpolished in a way that does suggest that he was raised by his wolves. So she conjures up a vision in her mirror, his pack all slaughtered and his precious woods burned to ash. Something shifts in his eyes and he nods without another word. The Queen smiles.

 

The huntsman returns and feeling the dirt on his hands she accepts the coffer from him. And Regina thinks that victory had been so easy, it lies enclosed in silver and blood. She opens it the way a child might unwrap a present and lying there is a boar’s heart, dark with old blood and limp. Regina immediately understands what transpired, the huntsman had spared Snow White’s life and decided to trick her, believing her to be an idiot. The Queen throws the boar’s heart against the wall and lunges at him, sticking her hand into his chest. His heart is strong and untainted, and beats furiously in her hand desperate to get back to him. This is the last time she relies on anyone else’s free will, the last time she lets anyone else have a hand in her plans.

 

“Her heart for yours it is, then.” Regina tells him as she stuffs into a wooden and unpolished chest. “I don’t think you are capable of understanding what your soft heart has cost you and what it has unleashed.” And he is silent, because she has not ordered him to speak. He just watches, in quiet horror.

 

It doesn’t begin with blood, very few things do. The Queen is careful about her next steps, always watching and listening for anyone expecting her to trip and fall. So she sells an illusion, that she indeed is a grieving mother and wife, saddled with the burden of royal authority and power. Regina begins to seek the favour of lesser nobles, who had for so long only watched the King and bit their tongues. She goes after the weak, like all predators do. The Queen grants them new powers and titles, ties their fates to her own. It is never expressed but Regina makes sure they know that without her they are nothing. It’s not only their favour she seeks, Queens after all need willing and faithful subjects. Peoples who had been neglected by King Leopold benefit from her rule; peasants get a say in the land they farm, complaint books are created, taxes are rethought, and grain trade increases. Regions, like Para-Upari-Sena, are given more autonomy, and the Queen is hailed as being a fair and wise monarch. But only she knows that these actions do not come from place of fairness or kindness. Regina, not without guilt nor resentment, thinks that perhaps her mother had been right; she was meant to be Queen.

 

Snow White, to her credit, had learned that it was best to pretend that she had actually died and was surviving hidden somewhere in the Kingdom. The Princess probably thought that the Queen truly believed her dead and Regina was more than happy to oblige her. The search for the Princess would be discreet, and her death a secret. Only then would the Queen be safe from the fingers of fate that threatened to undo her. Soldiers, heartless now, ride through the woods and villages out of armour and in rags seeking a princess thought to be dead.They return to the castle empty handed, with barely any whispers of a sighting of a young woman who might have looked a bit like Snow White. Regina, still threading carefully, and dismisses them without so much a look of disdain. She is far too occupied keeping her rage, and what she fears is madness, at bay to spare the effort on simple foot soldiers.

 

Things do not stay uncomplicated for too long, unhappiness begins to surge in those that feel cheated under the new regime. Those who had long benefited from a King and not a Queen, and it did not matter whether or not they possessed a noble title. Then come the rumors of revolts and taking the crown from her and passing it on to one who belongs on the throne, all milky-skinned and bright eyed. This is not something that a queen should tolerate, and Regina decides not to. She cannot allow it to go further, not to a day in which brutes rock her carriage or when a handsomely forged sword skewers her body. It is not hard to tighten her grip, not yet to iron, but tight enough to jail those who dare to think themselves as a threat. Her soldiers, now in dark armour and bearing her crest, might draw blood and break some bones in the process of following royal orders and Regina discovers that she doesn't much care.

 

She cares for very few things now, if it isn’t obsession or anger she is feeling, then she is empty. Nothing moves her, not since she’d lost her faceless woman so many nights ago and the only way to feel like she’s has breath left in her is to let flame and darkness engulf her. One day she takes it too far, and Regina knows as soon as she sees the a man from her royal court double over in pain and smells his burned flesh. Fire had sprung from her palms and punished him for all to see that day and then it is known that the Queen had been hiding more than one type of darkness. This display of power and cruelty is what draws out Snow White from the woods and into the light of day. She had stood in a village square and told the villagers that the Queen had tried to have her murdered and that she cannot continue hiding. Queen Regina must be stopped, that is what she had proclaimed that day, so had said a girl that had come into the castle hoping to speak with the Queen, wanting to serve her in some way. Regina had rewarded the girl and traced the outline of her face with a sweetness she had not felt and sent her back to her village. Now, with hateful determination simmering under her surface, Regina understands that things have changed and that she must become blood covered iron if she is to survive. Because Snow White has become that which she fears the most.

 

“Your Majesty,  if I may, the Kingdom...its interests. This pursuit of Snow Wh...” Her royal advisor struggles to get his words out one evening at the council room.

 

“I AM the Kingdom. The Queen’s word is the law. Unless, you’ve forgotten.” Regina responds with a violent hiss. She eyes her royal adviser, who looks about ready to meet his death and she almost raises her hand to meet his expectations but thinks better of it. She cannot afford to alienate those who do stand by her.

 

“No, Your Majesty. Of course not, I simply worry about Your Majesty’s future. But indeed, forgive my foolishness and forwardness.” He bows with sweat dripping from his forehead.

 

“You’re lucky I’m merciful.” And Regina almost believes her words.

 

* * *

 

 

“I hear they’re calling you the Evil Queen now.” Amestris says sipping her wine from an arm chair in her royal chambers. Regina admires her courage, she possesses no magic or even an inclination and she remains unafraid of a witch queen.

 

“I’ve earned it, I suppose.” When she had first learned of the nickname she had despised it but at this moment she let a dark smile spread on her face.After many corpses had been piled up, and villages turned to ash, Regina took pleasure from it. “Dear Princess Snow came up with it at one of her pathetic peasant rallies. Trust her to come up with such an insipid name.”

 

“Mhmmm. Sounds like the beginnings of a civil war, Your Majesty.” She replies casually, as if she were still conversing with a trapped young queen on the night of her birthday.

 

“She will not win, Amestris. Besides, I count on the support of Para-Upari-Sena, do I not?” Regina crosses the room, sipping her own wine and watches the older woman carefully.

 

“We would not abandon you while you sit on the throne, no. But we are not capable of fighting stronger tides , Your Majesty.”

 

“I will not lose. I cannot lose.” Regina leans down to catch Amestris’s lips and ignores how ill fitting they feel on hers.

 

“For both of our sakes, I hope you are right.” Amestris licks her own lips and narrows her eyes as she looks up at the Queen. “If not, what good is that dragon you have on your side?”

 

“Careful, dear.” She warns not taking too well to the doubt and challenge in her words.

 

“You cannot afford the luxury of over-confidence, Your Majesty.”

 

* * *

 

 

Regina had been captured and almost executed. All her allies had either deserted her or bent the knee to the new royals. Years of pursuit and bloodshed had almost come to an end by arrows. Snow had begged her to repent, to ask for forgiveness not only from her and her idiot Prince but from the people. Even if that would have saved her life, Regina could not have done it, something ugly and feral inside her told her to only sharpen her bite and bare her claws.  Now she feels the air tighter in her lungs and thinks that the war is not over. This surrender that Snow and her Prince had asked from her is only temporary and will not hold. She will get her victory, her revenge, and her safety. She will triumph over everything that threatens to undo her. Regina goes to her old master hoping that he would have a solution. It does not matter that she loathes him and that through the years she had clashed with him and tried to end his immortal life. Regina needs every weapon at her disposition, their source should hold little consequence.

 

It is no surprise that upon arriving at his castle, Rumpelstiltskin taunts her and blinks in and out of the room. He laughs and takes great joy in all that Regina has lost,retelling her downfall in painful and accurate detail. He tells her that she will always have a hole in her dark heart, one that could never hoped to be filled and how deliciously wonderful it is that she was responsible for it. Her tone is venomous when she points at his own monstrosity but he continues to revel in her frustration. He tells her not to worry, that he possesses the darkest curse known in all the realms and it will ensure her triumph. It only requires the heart of whom Regina loves the most. Like all curses, it is has its dissolution built into it. A child would break it, a child forced to liberate all whom the Queen would curse. And there it is, the old prophecy resurfacing yet again. If it is not Snow White, then her child could very well end her. But then the price of the dark curse settles into the corners of her mind and blackened heart and a chill travels down her spine. First relief washes over her, as Regina remembers that she cannot sacrifice someone who is unknown to her and who only exists in a place for disembodied souls. Then a terrible sick feeling invades her chest and makes her hands tremble when she remembers that her papá is still alive and how Regina still adores him. How she still crumbles in his arms and he still wipes her tears away with his cotton handkerchief. Regina knows that magic cannot be tricked but she will try anyway, because she cannot tolerate the loss of her papá.

 

So Regina offers the dark curse the heart of Rocinante, one that was tearfully ripped from his strong and healthy body.  But magic is clever and cannot be fooled, and the curse does not take hold. Her old master snickers and then urges her to commit one last act of cruelty before the curse lifts them to another realm where magic does not exist. A place she has constructed through emotional calculations, ensuring a perfect and eternal stasis, keeping Snow separate from her Prince and denying happiness to all who had ruined hers. Regina brings her papá up to the mountains, where the dark magic will flow and extend all throughout the kingdom. Her hand goes through his ribcage with an ease that tortures her and retrieves his heart.

 

“I’m sorry, papá.” Regina cries and it does not matter that all the creatures of the forest are there to see the Queen cry. His body plummets to the ground and a sob escapes her. The ground shakes and the first signs of black magic begin to appear. The green and black of the curse begin to mix and she understands that her father needs to be buried. Regina transports her papá’s body to a clearing that will be taken by the curse and encapsulates him in white marble. The Queen heads back to the castle that Snow and her Prince have taken, she wants to be there for when the blackness of the curse takes them all away to a land devoid of happiness.

 

When she arrives in a swirl of violet smoke and furious glee,the guards scramble and fail to stop her. An injured Charming races away from her, with a bundle in his arms and a sword to his hip and Regina knows that this is the child they are sacrificing to be their savior. And she thinks it is horribly ironic that they would deprive their child of happiness to bring back theirs, how noble and beautiful selfishness looks in the garments of selflessness. The Prince places the baby in a wardrobe and exclaims that she will never get to the baby. She cackles and throws him around like she would a rag doll. He scrambles away from her to search for his wife and it does not take long to find them. Snow lies on the floor, her arms protective of the bleeding Prince and then green and black fill the walls of the castle. Glass shatters, the floor and walls tremble and Regina is ecstatic. The magic swirls around her, knowing its wielder, and she feels it wrap and unwrap against her skin. The Queen can only admire her handiwork with her widest grin and let the feeling of victory wash over her as she closes her eyes.

  


* * *

 

Dawn awakens the Queen but she isn’t the Queen here. In this land, that her mind is barely beginning to make sense of, she is mayor of this town. Regina Mills is her name and her address is 108 Mifflin Street. Her body is covered in silk and her sheets have an 800 thread count. Regina is surprised to know what that means. Her dark hair feels short on her head and a quick glance to her vanity reveals that it’s the shortest she’s ever worn it. Regina smiles because this place, this town she has engineered through magic, is nothing like the White Kingdom. Knowledge from this world is still pouring into her mind and she is shocked at the familiarity of it at every turn. There are words for things she would have never thought to exist. Here everything is labelled and she understands people here, in this world, are always searching for measures, boxes and categories. If there isn’t a word for something or someone, then one would be willed into existence. Regina decides she likes it, because for the first time there are terms to describe herself;who and what she is.

 

It’s words that fill the empty spaces in the days in this town, that despite the complexities she had filled it with doesn’t stop feeling empty. It’s they that make Regina forget that there is very much a hollowness to her and this place. She learns that her people are just as real as they were in her world; her mother tongue is called Spanish and when in the privacy of her mansion with its cold marble and wood, she speaks it freely to herself. Latina, is what she calls herself here. Regina searches her mind for the voices of her people and realizes she does not know them and she sets out to find them, whichever ever way she can. That can be done in this world, search and reach for things that are not within her immediate grasp. It’s probably her favorite thing. It didn’t take her too long to find these voices, scattered as they were across time and distance. And they are all beautiful and terrible. Her people speak and write with a ferocious bite to them, there’s pain, calls to freedom and misery. There’s talk of menstrual blood under the moonlight, of travels on muddy roads and the feel of a horse under strong thighs. There’s fury and cruelty, in her people here too, sometimes righteous and sometimes ugly. The words on the pages on the books she acquires throughout the years are as rough and sharp as her people’s history in this realm. Regina thinks that she has never been better well suited to a place before.

 

But there isn’t just ugliness that she can connect to, there is also poetry and beauty to this reality. There is magic to be found here too, magic in realism. Regina sometimes needs to remind herself that enchantments and curses do not exist in this world because some neatly printed sentences describe magic so perfectly. People in these stories can sprout wings, angels walk into a room and no one thinks anything of it. There are girls with green hair who stitch strange beasts into their needle-point patterns, men who birth sons from their thoughts, women who speak to the dead who walk through their homes. Houses with stairs that lead nowhere, boys who love each other and find the beauty of a Pharaoh in the other. And Regina wonders how is it that they can capture the world expertly, how can they know what it is to live with magic when they’ve never felt it spark between their fingers. She concludes that it’s the specialness of her people, their unique pains and undefinable beauty that makes them able to create magic no matter the realm. Either through word or deed.

 

The mayor keeps these worlds deep within herself as she walks her streets. No one here suspects anything, and certainly do not know what grows in her blood as they pass her on the street. No polite nod, or courteous smile could ever begin to understand what she had discovered about herself. In this place, in this town, Regina believes she had gained more than she had lost. But even firm in that belief, she knows that those gestures from the townspeople are only vacant. There is no one like her in Storybrooke, she is alone in her thoughts, alone in her feelings. With each passing year that seems like less of a victory and Regina hates hearing Rumplestiltskin's voice promising that there would always be a hole in heart that will never be filled. When his words get louder, she reads to herself aloud, hoping that Sonnet XVII will drown it out. Sometimes that’s enough, but most of the time it isn’t.

 

Yes, there is a void somewhere in the threads of her heart. Feeling that emptiness, Regina remembers all that she’s lost. How could she forget her mother ripping Daniel’s heart from his chest and turning it to dust? She can still feel the flames that engulfed her that night when she’d last seen her nameless woman, when Regina had slipped away from her grasp and failed to ever find her. She is not in this town with her either; despite all that she knows about this town Regina had hoped that maybe she had slipped through the cracks of black magic and managed to find her way here. No, there was no such luck to be had. The mayor, former Queen, lets herself cry when she remembers that way her papá’s heart had felt in her hands and the way Tibiche looked when she said she only wished she could have served her better. For all the richness and fullness of the words she had discovered here, with their loans from Latin, Greek, and Arabic, they cannot fill that empty place inside herself. What is the use of them if they are for no one but herself?

 

And that is the source of her longing, Regina realizes. She wishes these words were for someone in her present, not for all of those whom she had lost. She wants someone with whom she can share the worlds that live within her, a person who can speak her language, and belongs to her. Regina needs someone to whom this fullness that is just itching to burst out can be given. Magical reality or not, she will make this happen. She will find someone to whom these words that she collected could be passed, someone she would love with all the fire she had left in her.

* * *

 

Henry likes to have his little feet tickled. He giggles in that sweet voice of his, squirms and pulls his feet away from her but stretches them out for her to tickle again. There is nothing greater, she would trade her crown and title a thousand times over for her son. She carries in her arms all around the house, narrating the most mundane things to him. And her little prince takes it all in, his eyes light up when she sings for him.

“Jugo!” He says one day and Regina turns around to see him smiling and shaking his sippy cup at her from his high chair. Her eyes are brimming with tears and her lips are wide in an open smile because her boy can speak and use her language; their language. He is hers and Regina can share her worlds with him. He grows and as soon as he is old enough Regina teaches him that she is “mom” and “momma” never mamá. That word sits bitter on her tongue and only brings back memories of a hard hand across her face and her mother being swallowed by a looking glass. No, she does not want to bind herself with that even if it means borrowing from a foreign tongue.

 

Her boy asks for a story every night before bed and Regina admits that she sometimes has trouble coming up with new ones to tell him but Henry doesn’t seem to notice and if he does, he does not mind. He hangs on to every word and says “Otro cuento, momma!” Through closed eyes and fingers curled around his baby blanket. She replies every night “Hay que guardarlos para mañana en la noche, sweeheart” Regina kisses his forehead and runs her fingers through his hair until he gives in to sleep. Henry is a sweet boy, who loves everything he sees so dearly. She lives for being the center of his affections, for his gentle hands grabbing her cheeks, for chasing him around her backyard, and for early Friday afternoons with him and his crayons. Watching him get taller and smarter, Regina now believes that this what the prophecy she had learned in what now seemed a distant past had predicted. She loves her son with a raw fire, like she could keep giving and never tire. Regina knows that she would let herself burn if that meant that he would never feel cold. And feeling triumphant the former Queen thinks that she has won and beaten fate. She loves again and there is no princess threatening to undo her. Not in this town.

 

* * *

 

 

Regina focuses on the sound of the cider filling two glasses, barely able to contain storm of emotions forming at her core. She thinks she manages a polite smile as she hands Henry’s...Emma Swan a glass of cider. The Mayor ignores the strange spark she feels at the tip of her fingers as they grazed the other woman’s. There is no magic in this land, she reminds herself. No matter what her books and poems would have her believe. She is leaning against an archway and there is a look in her eye she can’t place. Her hair is long and blonde, its curls falling on her shoulders. Her lips are naked and naturally pink, and there is a special shine to eyes that are just on the verge of sad.Regina recognizes a specific type of want growing inside her. But it all has to be ignored, she cannot remain a minute longer than necessary in her town. Danger is often beautiful, Regina knows this better than anyone.

 

“How did he find me?” She asks like Regina is supposed to have a satisfactory answer.

 

“No idea. When I adopted him, he was only three weeks old. Records were sealed. I was told the birth mother didn’t want to have any contact.” Her tone turns firmer just as her back straightens but her eyes never leave the other woman.

 

“You were told right.” Regina believes that was meant to comfort her but it hardly makes a difference. She just wants to scream and tear everything to shreds.

 

Then it occurs to her, if there is a mother then..”And the father?”

 

“There was none.” An old hurt is hidden in her eyes, but not that she should care. She doesn’t.

 

“Do I need to be worried about him?”

 

“Nope, he doesn’t even know.”

 

“Do I need to be worried about you, Miss Swan?”

 

“Absolutely not.” It’s a statement Emma Swan believes to be completely true but Regina knows that she should indeed be worried. Instead of voicing this, she nods taking a sip from her drink.

 

“Madam Mayor, you can relax. Other than being a tired little boy, Henry’s fine.” Graham says as he comes down the stairs, she had forgotten about him altogether. Caught in the oncoming storm that is the woman standing in front of her. Regina is surprised to feel relief when she hears the front door close after him. She leads Emma to another room, not understanding the warring need to have her gone and keep her close where she can watch her.

 

“I’m sorry he dragged you out of your life. I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.” She apologizes, like she supposes she should. But Regina isn’t sorry that she has been pulled from her life, she hates that she was dragged into her own. Disrupting the perfect balance of things in Storybrooke.

 

The other woman shrugs and gives her a half-smile that seems genuine. “Kid’s having a rough time. It happens.” She says as if this were the kind of thing that happens every day, as if something slipping from her grasp were acceptable.

 

“You have to understand. Ever since I became mayor, balancing things has been tricky. You have a job, I assume?” Regina cannot tolerate to be seen as lacking or incompetent.

 

Emma Swan’s footing shifts and she’s nervous.  Uh, I keep busy, yeah.”

 

“Imagine having another one on top of it. That’s being a single mom. So I push for order. Am I strict? I suppose. But I do it for his own good. I want Henry to excel in life. I don’t think that makes me evil, do you?” Regina realizes that she has revealed more than she cared to and the word “evil” felt sour and rotten on her tongue and it was cutting her deep.

 

“I’m sure he’s just saying that because of the fairy tale thing.” She seems to want to reassure Regina no matter what, her tone had almost been distracting enough to let the meaning get lost. But her mind manages to catch it and then her stomach flips and her fingers twitch around her glass.

 

“What fairy tale thing?”

 

“Oh, you know. His book. How he thinks everyone’s a cartoon character from it. Like his shrink is Jiminy Cricket.” She looks at her like she is explaining a joke that fails to make her laugh.

 

“I’m sorry. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” And for the first time there is something that the Mayor does not understand about this world, about her son.

 

Emma Swan shakes her head in embarrassment. “You know what? It’s none of my business. He’s your kid. And I really should be heading back.”

 

“Of course.” Regina knows that this is not quite so simple but says nothing as she escorts her out.

 

* * *

 

 

“You know what’s kind of crazy? Yesterday was my birthday and when I blew out the candle on this cupcake I bought myself, I actually made a wish. That I didn’t have to be alone on my birthday. And then, Henry showed up.” Emma Swan actually smiles at her, like she can’t believe her luck. As if something has monumentally changed overnight and the look on her eyes suggests that Regina holds any sort of answer for her. And she hates her for it.

 

“I hope there is no misunderstanding here.” She says curtly as her eyes narrow.

 

“I’m sorry?” The woman has the dense head of a good heart.

 

“Don’t mistake all this as invitation back into his life.” Regina says with no delicacy or consideration but not quite as who she used to be.

 

“Oh.” And there is hurt written all over her face and she just like her son when he has decided not to cry.

 

“Miss Swan, you made a decision ten years ago. And in the last decade, while you’ve been… Well, who knows what you’ve been doing. I’ve changed every diaper. Soothed every fever. Endured every tantrum. You may have given birth to him, but he is my son.” If she had magic, sparks would be escaping her fingers and this woman would be no more. If she were Queen but she isn’t, she remembers all too well.

 

“I was not…” She stammers. Emma Swan looks like she might reach out to her, and Regina refuses to acknowledge that she is frightened.

 

“No! You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to do anything. You gave up that right when you tossed him away. Do you know what a closed adoption is? It’s what you asked for. You have no legal right to Henry and you’re going to be held to that. So, I suggest you get in your car, and you leave this town. Because if you don’t, I will destroy you if it is the last thing I do. Goodbye, Miss Swan.” Regina turned aggressive, had bared her teeth and made a threat, just like a scared animal would. The dumbest thing the other woman could do was to back her into a corner because she would claw and bite her way out. Before giving her the opportunity, she turns back to her house.

 

“Do you love him?” She comes after her, stubborn fool that she is.

 

“Excuse me?” Regina will not admit to her that the question pains her deeply.

 

“Henry. Do you love him?” She might be able to digest it better if her tone had been accusatory, but it hadn’t been.

 

“Of course I love him.” Regina leaves her before the knot in her throat gets any bigger and grief replaces her wrath.

 

She races up the stairs and into her son’s room, that had only recently become his fortress against her. Where she used to tuck him and make sure his night-light was on and now it’s where he keeps her out and his secrets in. Regina snatches the book she recognizes as foreign. It’s bound in brown leather and looks like it belongs in the library at the Royal Castle in the White Kingdom, not in her little prince’s room. She catches herself in the mirror, and for the first time in ten years anger, and fear are visible on her face. The fates had not truly let her go and their fingers were yanking on the threads of her life again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to add that this is probably the last chapter that features the show's dialogue so heavily and that I will not be making Regina's relationship with Graham sexual because it was mishandled in the show, not acknowledging what it was and also sexual coercion/assault as a lazy marker/short-hand for evil. Just like they used seduction as another with the Genie and Regina. It doesn't feel right, so I'm not moving in that direction. They also didn't stop to consider that Regina had also been a victim of sexual abuse before writing that..so..yeah.


	12. Princess in Leather, Queen in Pencil Skirts

Regina hates her. No.She doesn’t just hate her, she fucking hates her with the fire of twenty suns. Emma gathers that this isn’t a woman who half-asses anything and despite herself, she wonders what it must be like to be loved by someone like that. But if her love was as extreme as her hate, why did Henry run? Why does he doubt her love? Emma is dead certain Regina would kill for Henry. There’s too much shit she doesn’t understand.They fight, playing a game of chicken, wondering who will be the chicken-shit who backs off. They get so up in the other one’s face that Emma feels Regina’s breath on her and thinks that if they keep it up their lips will graze. But they never do, instead they end up punching each other in the face and she feels a sudden jolt of electricity. Emma had heard about giving off bad vibes but this was something else entirely.

 

Graham dies the moment he kisses her, and maybe there is a curse in this town. She can hardly register what’s happening but something inside her is restless, itching to stay and be the thorn in Regina’s side. There’s a fire, and then Emma’s sees it, a contradiction in the Mayor, something she doesn’t how she recognizes. Eyes and voice pleading with her for help, believing that Emma would leave her to burn. Regina leans on her, and then there’s electricity again. Like a fuse is meeting a battery, sparks and gunpowder. Emma says that the next time she’ll save her again because that’s what good people do, and doesn’t say that for most of her life she never saw herself as especially good. But she means it, next time, she’ll save her. Again, and again. And the promise feels painfully familiar.

 

August, the only stranger to ever come to town according to Henry, tells her she’s obsessed when she can’t stop staring at Regina at the diner. “Just following my gut” She replies, knowing that it’s not the whole truth. Shit just keeps getting weirder, hearts in boxes, murder and affairs and Emma just knows that somehow Regina is involved. Fine, maybe she is hung up on the idea and her one-track mind won’t let it go. But things get too fucked up and her old instinct to run kicks in, to get in the bug and take Henry with her. Maybe he will be better off with her, maybe he won’t but the risk doesn’t seem too bad. He screams at her, blood-curling, he kicks and his voice gets higher and higher when he tells her she can’t leave, that her work isn’t finished and Emma thinks she’s only made things worse by staying. His small hands grab the steering wheel and almost makes them crash before crossing the town line. The kid’s crying and Emma apologizes and takes him home. But she can’t stay, Emma accepts that now. She could almost laugh; Regina will be thrilled to be proven right. Finally.

 

Emma tells her she’s leaving, but that she’ll like to be a part of Henry’s life. To her surprise, Regina agrees with her half-baked plan, probably too happy to get rid of her problem. Hell, she rewards her with an apple turnover for the road. This whole stay in Storybrooke was a mistake, Henry wasn’t. Not Henry, not ever. It’s why Emma feels her life leaving her when he drops on Mary Margaret’s floor after taking a bite from Regina’s turnover. It was the only way to make her believe, and suddenly even fewer things make sense. Her son is dying and every single fucking thing he’d been telling her is true and her head wants to explode. Because this is all the most extraordinary bullshit.

 

\------------------

 

Her boy is lying in a hospital bed and now she believes that she is the monster he sees in her. This is the end that the fates had in store for her; she loved so hard that she squeezed the life out of her son. A princess, long-haired and dressed in denim and leather, had come to her town to pull, punch, and on occasion save her. There is a chance to save Henry’s life, and they both stop fighting long enough to give him his best chance. They rush together to Gold, the Imp, her old master, for answers. It’s just fitting that he would have been them in the belly of a dragon. True love, that’s what can save Henry and her heart drops when she realizes that its kiss would never work with her. Her little prince does not love her anymore, she had made sure of that with her lies and constraints.She could plant a thousand kisses on his forehead and never break the curse that is killing him. How she loathes herself for who she became and what she has done to Henry.

 

Gold presents Emma Swan with her father’s sword and the Sheriff looks so lost, like she’s desperately trying to convince herself that it is all a nightmare. There is hesitation when she takes it but even Regina has to admit that her hand seems to fit the hilt perfectly; she was truly born to wield it. Perhaps princess is the wrong term for this woman; it doesn’t begin to describe this person who terrifies her in ways she doesn't comprehend. Watching her go down the elevator, with that sword on her hip and determination in her eyes, Regina thinks of all the blood that had been shed over the years. Enough had been spilt to make her believe that she had actually won, that her happiness had been paid for her and her destiny had been beaten. All that power and she couldn’t even save herself in the end.

 

The Sheriff scrambles out of the elevator shaft and runs to untie and ungag her. And there she is, keeping her promise, saving her again. Saving her because that’s what good people do and Emma Swan is good, good in ways Queen Regina and Mayor Mills can never be. She admires her, she has from the very beginning. Her tenacity, that awful stubbornness, and how deeply she cared for things she ought to forget about it. She’s the best person to be struck down by and it makes everything so much worse; Regina has never been a gracious loser. Emma Swan had defeated her all on her own, through the love of her child. The Savior and the Evil Queen, and as far as stories and prophecies go, there is not one that casts her as the victor in such a battle.

 

Something breaks inside her when she didn’t think there was anything left to break when Whale tells her that her son is dead. She and Emma rush up the stairs, all sweat and tears. The Savior truly is good and made by true love, because she doesn’t turn to blame her, to kill her, like Regina would have. Instead she stands next to her, looking at her son’s body from a distance, crying just as much as she is. Regina can’t move, it’s as if she’s rooted to the hospital’s linoleum floor. It would be sacrilege to go near Henry now, to have something so dark and terrible touch something so holy. He had not wanted her, and at least she can give him that now, to be free of her. To never be touched by her again. It’s only fitting that it’s who Swan moves to his bedside, to kiss him goodbye. She closes her eyes so carefully and presses her lips to his cold forehead and then she sees it. A magical pulse so strong that it goes through everyone and everything. Her boy opens his eyes and is ecstatic to see his Savior, the mother he has chosen for himself. And she is jealous because he is beaming at her, telling her that she has broken the curse. Regina’s love and hatred are pulling her apart, and she cannot stand it for too long. She runs from the hospital and doesn’t stop until she is inside her grand and empty house. It will stay empty until it rots and she with it.

 

* * *

 

 

No, she isn’t dying. Emma is not letting that thing take Regina, marked as she is.She had made her a promise that she’d save her the next time danger came and Emma knows there will always be a next time. Maybe Regina Mills had been the Evil Queen back in...whatever it is they all come from, dressed in all black and ripping heart outs but not here. Here’s she’s Regina, that’s all Emma knows her as. Fucking quick to anger, spiteful, but just so damn human.. Her eyes well up with tears and her voice cracks when she doesn’t want it and shit Emma can’t take it. So no, that thing isn’t taking her soul. David looks at her like it wouldn’t be the worst thing if they just let her die. Exacting some bullshit enchanted forest justice and how could she ever tell him that some time ago she had needed a second chance too? That life doesn’t work that way? He should know, she thinks, fake memories and all, he should see beyond his dumb absolutes. Mary Margaret’s eyes are wary but she has faith in her Savior, just like she had when she stuffed her into a wardrobe. She’ll help because she believes in Emma and isn’t this what good does? Too many things are going over her head.

 

But it makes a weird kind of sense that it’s her hand on Regina’s arm zaps her magic into being. It explains the sparks that she had felt on her fingers every time their hands had landed on each other, whether they had been curled into fists or extended to help. But before she can actually realize what is happening, she is pushing Regina out of the way. Away from that  thing and she is falling through darkness and nothingness and the world just won’t stop spinning.

 

\-------------

 

This damn forest would drive anyone insane, Emma decides. The magical scabbing bug bites and the smell of shit would have been enough for her. Try as she might, she cannot picture Madame Mayor in her tailored pencil skirts, stilettos and plum lipstick in this muddy mess. Her sharpness doesn’t fit in here and Emma considers that maybe there is something going unsaid about Regina. She should have been warned about this fucking place, Emma thinks. Mary Margaret seems so at ease, with a bow and arrow and talking about good and evil with the surest voice Emma’s ever heard. The talk gets sickening when they meet Aurora and Mulan, and it’s about princes, true love’s kiss and Emma doesn’t know how much more of this crap she can take without snapping. One afternoon she catches Mulan gazing at Aurora and it’s not Philip who she loves, not for who she fights. She’s not following sleeping beauty and her raggedy dress around a forest only out of sense of duty and her heart sinks into her stomach. Because her sword and her bravery will never get her Aurora, not like they did for Philip. The saddest thing for Emma is that Mulan never expects them to.

 

Aurora has these horrible nightmares of a room on fire, as soon as she closes her eyes she’s trying to fight her way back to wakefulness. Her eyes fly open in a cold sweat and with screams that’d scare of any troll in the woods. Then she speaks about a little boy in there with her now and it’s Henry. Emma’s mind is struggling to keep up with magic but suddenly something inside it just clicks. Aurora dreams of her son, someone she has never met, just like she used to dream of _her._ Just like she used to go to a place and maybe, just maybe there is something she can relate to in this world. But she feels her hope deflating when she spots the obvious holes in her crackpot theory. First, Emma had never been under a sleeping curse. Second, they were never nightmares; sure they had given her killer migraines and made her puke her guts out but Emma knows she could have stayed there forever, been with her forever. Third, Aurora remembers every last detail, enough that messages can be exchanged between worlds. Emma can’t recall one goddamn thing about her face, or her voice, just the way warmth spread from her toes to her finger tips and the brightness of her smile. All useless to her now and Emma kicks a pebble in frustration, this is something that should be buried and forgotten. It’s too painful and really not fucking helping. Suddenly, she wonders what Regina would make of it. Probably tell her it’s meaningless with a voice that’s too practiced to be uncaring. Why do her thoughts always gravitate back towards her? Emma wants to get the hell out of this place.

 

The tree is hard against Emma’s back and Henry is burying his face in her stomach, arms wrapped around her. It was Regina who saved them, pulled them out of that well and she looks so pale, so exhausted. She’s under no illusions, she’s not stupid, this had all been for her son. Trying to be worthy of him, because Henry would never forgive Regina if she did not give it her all to try and save her and Mary Margaret. Even if that’s the case, Regina brought them back, it was her magic who blanketed them and kept them safe. So she can’t help but to glance in her direction, when Henry isn’t looking, and silently thank her. And fuck, there is warmth directed at her for the first time and Emma doesn’t know how to process it. Maybe things will be better now, she hopes as she breathes out in relief. She really wants to be right.

 

\---------------

For the first time Regina can see the darkness as separate thing from herself, as a thing that lurks in every room. Something that gains access to the threads of her heart and stitches itself into her being. It’s an addiction; it’s easier when she thinks about it in clinical and scientific terms, in words she had learned here. But she knows that while darkness may sit in corners, ugliness and that the things that draw it in very much reside inside her. She is trying, desperately trying to be better. Because Henry’s love is tied to her efforts to overcome it and because she cared that Emma Swan believed that she could do better. It was not an admission that had come easily to her, but it gave her something else to latch on to. Something other than fear of the coming storm that had her mother’s name. That same voice that begs her to make the right choice tells her that she should speak candidly with the Sheriff. It tells her that her green eyes would understand, she’d listen. After all,she had dealt with her mother in the forest, had seen what she could do first hand, knew she would be coming for Henry. If only it were that simple to organize her thoughts and pick the right words. Regina feels like she is being torn apart like she had been so many years ago. Too many voices in her head, hours that feel pure like morning sunlight and whole days that are black voids. Regina will cave in, she knows it in the depths of her corrupted soul. A minute with her mother and she will be ensnared.

 

She is scared little girl in her mother’s presence, the girl with hair that curled at its tips who taught herself not to flinch when she saw her mother’s hand being raised. The child in a dress she hates but who behaves for her mamá because she yearns to be loved by her. Emma takes Henry with her to New York and in a hushed phone call when she’s hardly breathing she tells Regina that they found Henry’s father. One she had assured Regina didn’t exist, and suddenly her mother’s voice is no longer a whisper but a hiss, repeating “I told you so”. She’ll take Henry and run, now that there were this world’s picture perfect family. So it’s easy, so easy to let her mother poison her mind, to play into her fears. Regina remembers so well what it was like to go against her mother’s will. She thinks of Lourdes with her delicate curls and glowing skin and how her mother had made her disappear without a second thought. The look on Daniel’s face when her hand had found his heart and ripped it out telling her that it was for her own good. There cannot be any more losses like that, Regina doesn't know what it would do to her. Siding with her, giving in to her mamá like she had asked before she had pushed her into the looking glass is the safest option. Maybe if she rides on the tiger’s back she will not be swallowed.

 

Mary Margaret hands her mamá’s heart in a box, her eyes tearful begging Regina to listen. She tells her understands her now, and that maybe her mother would love her if she had her heart beating inside her chest. Regina must try because she deserves to know, deserves to be loved and the daughter in her wants to believe her mother can love her. She bursts into rage and grief when her mother saysr she would have been enough before her eyes darken and her lifeless body hits her wooden floor. Mary Margaret begs for her to kill her, a life for a life but Regina takes deep satisfaction to show her that blotch of darkness taking hold in her heart. The Mayor will become the Queen again, blow this entire town into oblivion and she’ll take her son back; she had tried, battled every day with the different sides of her and that had only landed her more misery. Then she’s taken by a man who she had hurt as a boy and a lost woman, betrayed by a second-rate pirate. Regina is robbed of all dignity, of all magic as they strap her on a table. And a one of the voices says that she deserves this. It only makes her harden; she will break before she bends. Queens do not beg, Regina Mills does not beg. She would not be a proud daughter of the moon if she did. Hook hovers over her, and gloats, gives his approval but stops short of administering the punishment himself. Coward. Her nerves are being shot, the pain travels all over her body, her teeth bury themselves deep into her tongue, and her fingernails carve room for themselves in her palms. In this fog of torment she can’t help but think that if her soul had been clean it could have left her body, saved her and taken Regina back to her faceless woman, away from agony.

 

Her feet wobble and her head throbs when the Sheriff rescues her again and she can’t keep help the shock from her expression and tries to ignore the comfort of the feel of her body pressed against hers. Her heart is a fickle thing, Regina discovers. As soon it is known that Greg and Tamara have actioned the trigger, something she had planned to do herself, she rushes down into the mines alone and tries to contain it. She hates the tears that escape her and the way her voice falters when she begs Emma to let her die as Regina and to say goodbye to Henry for her. There is nothing else to hope for but a good and honorable death, and finally, finally fulfill the prophecy that has been haunting her for so many years. Then the idiot steps in with that seem terrifying determination and warm eyes and says that maybe together they are strong enough. And the most incredible thing is that they are. It takes all of them but the trigger becomes a useless rock and together they’ve done a good thing. It doesn’t last and Regina should have expected it. Henry is taken and before they can mourn any of their dead they’re at the docks, boarding a ship that will sail into doom. Regina looks at Emma Swan when she cannot see her and she feels momentary relief and comfort. But she knows that it will pass too soon because fear sits at the pit of her stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be the short first part of one whole chapter, that'd begin the final part of the story. But I rambled and became attached to the writing. It's now split into two chapters. Thanks so much for reading!


	13. Leche de Coco and Vanilla Shake Fries

Shit. Every time Emma begins to wrap her head around the concept of magic, enchanted forests, and fucking fairy-tales being real  something else turns her world upside down. This time it’s her kid who’s been taken, by brainwashed psychopaths to Neverland of all goddamn places. She’s aboard on Hook’s ship on a rescue mission and the crew is all made up of old enemies. People who would literally be at each other’s throats in different circumstances. Hook steers the ship and doesn’t bother hiding how easily he could stab Gold in the middle of the night. He follows her around saying things that are supposed to sound heart-felt and deep. Like she’s a fucking idiot. Like Henry hadn’t just been kidnapped, like Regina hadn’t just been tortured with his blessing by the assholes who snatched away her son. As if Neal hadn’t just fucking died. He gets too close  and she recognizes the way he scans her body. Like every cheap drunk with a pretty face, and a cashed paycheck in his pocket has eyed her. She fucking hates him. 

 

Mary Margaret and David just look at her with such hope and belief, convinced that the Savior will pull through no matter what. And she hides just how scared she is, how she feels afraid in her bones. But her hands get rough with sea-salt and chaffed by the ropes and there’s a sword on her back, so Emma looks stronger than she feels. It’s the only they can work. “He’ll be fine, Emma.You’re getting him back” Her parents tell her, they have no reason to doubt it. After all, the last time they knew of a child stuck in an unknown world it did fine for itself. But this isn’t the place for that old wound to re-open; she buries it all under hard work. Their kind eyes just don’t fucking see her and their good intentions make her neck hot with rage. And she feels like shit for it. Nothing makes sense anymore. Well, almost nothing. 

 

Regina remains her one constant on this ship. Anxiety drips from her and she lashes out angrily. Practically bites their heads off and spits out her words. And Emma realizes, she’s just as terrified as she is and this fury is her armour. She watches her; sometimes there’s a slight tremor to her hands when she’s hoisting sails, other times she bites her already split lips until she draws blood because the pain is too much but she can never say. Electro-shock torture will do that kind of rotten shit to a person. Regina’s eyes bury into Hook when that happens, she’d kill him, Emma knows, if he weren’t captain of this ship. She can’t say she blames Regina because something deep inside relates to that impulse. But Emma knows better than to ever say this aloud. Instead, she gets as close as Regina will allow her. Takes all her meals with her and few words are exchanged. This quiet is the closest thing to acceptance as Emma will get, and she’ll gladly take it. Because Regina doesn’t expect anything from her other than all her energy to get Henry back. She doesn’t project on her, there are no good intentions or blind fucking optimism that want to smother her. Just plans that can turn ruthless when they need to and silent agreement in her dark brown eyes. 

 

On that goddamn island they make it a habit of sleeping next to each other.It’s what makes sense, what feels right. There is no time to question why. Emma just feels safer this way and she sees for the first time what it’s like to be protected by Regina’s fire instead of standing in its path. She pushes Emma, even taunts her, because they need their magic in this fight. And Emma calls her a monster when she knows she isn’t one and then she smells fire bursting to life and understands a little more. Regina’s hand feels hot and electric when she stopped it with her own before it ripped a Lost Boy’s heart from his chest. Emma catches the change in her expression when she tells her that they need to talk to their son. Sees her big bright smile when they promise Henry that they’ll save him, that they’re here together. No, no, she isn’t a monster. She’s Regina, all claws and fire because she feels powerless, but she’s still Regina. Just like Emma’s always known. She sees the rawness of her love when she breaks free from that little shit Pan’s binds because she doesn’t regret maiming and killing because it got Regina her son. Maybe she should be scared of how that fury makes her burn so damn beautifully, but she isn’t. She never has been. Something grows in her instead, something that had sprouted roots some time ago. Fuck. 

 

They get their boy back, they do. And it’s all more than she could have hoped. He comes to and hugs them and calls them both his mom and Emma cries just as Regina does. They share a look and a smile as he lies on the floor between them. Regina promises to tuck Henry in with such care that she can’t help it if her dumbass smile never fades. He’s safe, they’re safe. They’re going home. 

  
  


\-----------

 

This part of the woods used to be so familiar to her. Regina remembers well how her heels pressed against Rocinante, urging him to go faster. A neat braid laid on her back on the many rainy days she had ventured into the East corner of the Bears Woods. She needs this, the fresh air and a place where her solitude and loneliness are finally matched. Regina is done with empty bed chambers, quiet dinner tables and servants, knights, and the like scurrying away at the sight of her. Every hour she contemplates the price she had to pay for all those who hate her, who avoid her, who fear her. Henry, Henry, Henry. Her boy, her little prince, existing in another world not knowing she ever held him. Happy, happy without her. Perhaps this is the way it’s meant to be, what the fates had ordained so long ago. She had loved so much that she burned and a princess from the line of King Leopold had come and undone her at her very seams. Regina had hoped against hope that her struggle to beat destiny would not lead her straight to it and she had failed spectacularly. But it was not bitterness and anger that came for her, not like it did in the past. It was just sadness and emptiness. No, she couldn’t begrudge the good memories and good life she had gifted Emma. She’d do it again, because Henry and that idiot, she has to admit, are worth everything.

 

However, thoughts of their joy do very little to fill the void in her life. Today is the day she moves to do something about it and her heart begins to race when the woods become more and more familiar to her. They are untouched by the curse, the pine needles move just the same as they did back when she was a young and reluctant queen. Regina harbours hope that in the distance she’ll soon see a simple shack, built with wood and stone. It appears just when her heart catches in her throat and she dismounts her mare, Carmen, and leads her to the makeshift stable that still stands there. The one Tibiche had her build. Right behind it stands the old sculpture of their Proud Moon Goddess, and it makes it feel like the return of a prodigal daughter. Regina stops short of knocking on the door, knowing that even if the old woman still lives she would most likely not receive her. She raises her hand but then turns around, not knowing why she had even come this far anymore.

 

“I never thought you’d be one to give up so easily, niña.” Tibiche says in their shared tongue as she opens the door. She is just the same, short and her dark skin cracking around the eyes.Her silver braid hanging on her shoulder, a white apron tied to her waist. Regina wonders how it’s possible, and just why she had been given this small grace. 

 

“You said that if the Queen ever came looking for you she would not find you.” She tries to sound composed, pretending that she is not overwhelmed with emotion. 

 

“And are you still the Queen?” Her dark brown eyes study her, challenging her like she used to. 

 

“No. I’m not.” The statement of that truth should hurt more, she thinks, but it doesn’t. 

 

“Then you’ve found me, mi niña.” She opens the door wider. “Ya entra, or are you planning on staying outside with your yegua?” 

 

Regina hurries in without a word and takes everything in. The smell of masa, fresh coffee, and sugar cane. The feel of a clean dirt floor under her shoes and the crackling fire in a clay oven. She never thought she would be back here again. 

 

“Good to see you still have your ass!” Tibiche laughs as she pats her behind affectionately as if no time had passed. Like if she had never become what she became.  

 

And Regina is old enough to not mind it and laugh instead. “What is that you used to say? That I have enough for the both of us.” 

 

“You remembered.” She gestures towards her old wooden table so that Regina sits. 

 

“I never forgot.” 

 

Tibiche serves her horchata with a plateful chorizos criollos, sweet plantains and fried beans and Regina hadn’t realized how starved she had been, for food and affection. The old woman watches her eat with a mug full of horchata herself. 

 

“It’s a brave thing you did, Regina.” She breaks the silence. “Trust that stubbornness and big heart of yours to come through in the end.Necia, como siempre.”  Tibiche has heard of the rumors surrounding her return to the Forest or perhaps she just knows, like she’s known so many things in the past. 

 

“It doesn’t feel that way, Tibiche. Duele, duele mucho.” Regina can’t meet her eyes. 

 

“Some would call it the price of goodness.” The old woman takes her hand in hers. “But that doesn’t mean it’s fair or just.” And Regina is taken aback because all those years ago she would not have said this. Goodness, purity, cleanliness were valued above in a past that doesn’t feel so distant now.

 

“I thought that…” 

 

“Even viejas like me never stop growing. I owe it to the Goddess. To you.” She doesn’t lower her gaze and her voice turns gentle in a completely foreign way. “You’ve lost your family. Gave it up for the greater good. You could have been selfish and yet…” 

 

“Here I am.” 

 

“Yes, here you are.” 

 

Regina finds herself telling her all about Henry, how she managed to get him to be pure and sweet, despite all that she had been. She had always been good at growing and nurturing things after all, even when her heart was all black. All of the details she hopes never fade from her mind leave her lips, and she grins and there is a wetness to her eyes, but it doesn’t matter. Emma Swan makes her way into more and more stories, Regina tells her about the fire and how she leaned against her, their combined magic, trekking across Neverland to get their son back. Tibiche shakes her head with a wry smile whenever her names comes up, like she knows something and Regina is too blind to see it. She admits to her old teacher that she does not mind her undoing, her end, as much because it had bought them their happiness. 

 

“That’s your mistake right there, niña. Believing this your end, not your middle. And let me tell you now, you better start making your peace with who you were and who you are.” 

 

“I have never appreciated riddles, Tibiche. You know that I have a very short fuse.” Regina says with a huff. 

 

“Pfft. Fine. The fates brought you this far, life got what it wanted. Its will has been fulfilled. It’s not the end, it’s only the end if you give up. Only now, you get the gift of the unknown.” Her voice is firm and pours her hot coffee, like if Regina needs it to sober up. “ Time is an illusion. Past, present, future, they all exist together. If you don’t start healing old hurts then all of your selves will suffer. Learn how to love and forgive yourself.”

 

“It’s not...it’s not easy. And it’s painful and I just wish I could collapse into myself and not feel. Not feel the emptiness that’s with me every day.” She confesses taking a gulp from her coffee, and tasting the salt of her tears. Regina hadn’t noticed them before. 

 

“Of course it’s hard! It’s life, niña. And you should know, better than anyone  in this damn kingdom, that it’s worth it.” 

 

\-----------

 

Regina leaves the castle, the one that she had once claimed as hers. The very one that would not have her or her children walk its halls and she knows it’s the right decision. Despite Mary Margaret’s guarded hospitality, she cannot stay there. She does not belong there, she never did. When asked where she would go Regina simply shook her head and left on Carmen. No carriage, no soldiers clad in armour, just a former queen and mayor riding into the woods. Her feathered mattress is replaced by a cot near Tibiche’s clay oven. There are days when she doesn’t leave it, just lies staring at the wood ceiling wishing she could see the stars. Wondering if her stars were the same as her son’s. There are days that she helps her old teacher pick out vegetables from the ground, dig strong and hard for yuca, her nails black with dirt.Those are days when she’s so sure that her mind is in deep slumber and her body just picks up the pace. Then there’s rage, and she’s covered with fire and Tibiche promptly sends her outside to have a good scream and all the ugliness that she still has inside just bursts out. All the curses in all the languages she knows come streaming out. But the old woman doesn’t send her away, because healing is messy and eternal. Instead she lets Regina stay and learn from the simplicity of her magic. There is no going back to a time when Regina was pure and blank slate, she works hard to come to terms with that. All her evil cannot not be erased just like her pain cannot not be forgotten, but she wants to believe she can find a place when she is not numb or covered in flames. 

 

Her new losses mix in with the old ones. Her mother is swallowed by a looking glass just as she collapses in her bedroom. Her father dies at her hand just as her son gets lost behind a curtain of green and purple fog; she slips away from her faceless woman’s tight grasp and feels Emma Swan releasing her from hers as she walks away from the town line. Regina wonders if her life isn’t just a repetitive cycle, and considers if Emma and that woman she used to know so well yet not all are one in the same. But that theory just makes it all the more painful, sets her on a path of tears and fire, because even for the way destiny had been written around her, that would be too cruel. She stops thinking like the witch queen that she once was during those moments and comes up with the rationalizations of a mayor versed in the human mind and the fabric of the world. Back when her soul was clean enough to separate from her body and meet her Emma did not exist. It is a mere replacement done in grief, trying to deal with pain in a way she had done before. It is a kind of thinking that should be abandoned and never revisited, it will do her no good. Besides, it is a theory that cannot be put to the test, not when there is still darkness and sorrow that keep her damaged soul strapped to her body. There is no way to ever reach anyone though it. No Henry, no idiot Sheriff, no unknown woman. It doesn’t matter who they are, they are all gone. 

 

A year passes and then everyone is going back to Storybrooke because of a new curse, and the Savior is coming back they all say. She will save them from a different wicked witch.  Regina knows that she must go too, because her boy will be there. And it doesn’t matter if she will be just a stranger to him, she has to go. Because she is still greedy and selfish, Regina asks Tibiche to come with her but doesn’t say it’s because she doesn’t want another loss in her life. The old woman just laughs and says “No, mi nina. My place is here. Who’d look out for my chickens if I left?” 

 

\---------

 

Henry calls her Mayor Mills and shakes her hand instead of wrapping his arms around her waist. He’s grown so much but his eyes look the same and his smile is just as earnest. Regina takes any chance to be near him, to speak with him, even if it feels like she is being torn apart. Because her son calls Emma “his mom” when he thinks to when he was shorter and younger. Altered memories is all he has and she wonders if he’ll go back to hating her when he gets back his real ones. Emma assures her in private moments that he won’t, Emma who regards her with the kindest eyes now and who brings her lunch. She has her own memories existing parallel to Regina’s in her mind and this doesn’t make Emma despise her, it makes her compassionate and say that with her, she always know when she’s lying. It makes Emma believe with a strength that a ten year-old Henry would be proud of. 

 

“Mom really likes you.” Henry tells her one day when she has him over for dinner, sitting at his usual place in dining room. He has too many questions, her boy is so confused and she can’t lie to him again but she can’t give him the truth either. Instead they dance around subjects that are safe, school, comics, the food and bookstores in New York. Anything that doesn’t require an untruth, and Henry had settled on Emma as subject. 

 

“Why do you say that?” Regina stops herself before she calls him “mi amor”, her heart growing in size when she catches the delight on his face when he tastes the coconut milk in the soup that used to be his favorite.

 

“She just acts like herself around you. With everyone else she tries too hard, I think. Like she’s afraid she’ll disappoint them.” He says innocently believing he is talking about mere strangers and not his family. Maybe Regina should say something that would ease his mind, say that Emma is just stressed. But she doesn’t because she remembers how Emma’s magic smells of coffee and maple syrup and how that small and unimportant secret is precious to her. It’s an old impulse, to want things and people all to herself. 

 

“You’re a very perceptive young man, Henry.” Is what she says instead. 

 

“I really like you too.” And she feels hope stirring within her and she smiles so genuinely that her cheeks ache. 

  
  
  


It with her kiss to his forehead that the magic pulsates and the curse is broken. Regina can hardly believe it and then her boy looks at her and cheers. He calls her mom and hugs her tightly. Caught in his embrace and gazing at Emma Regina believes that she is living her middle, and not her end. That prophecies can perhaps lie forgotten, and soul separations aren’t necessary, not with Henry loving her like this. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

It’s late and Emma’s still here. Still in Regina’s study, long after their magic lesson had ended. She’s on the floor because she’s covered in sweat and grime and Regina won’t have her “stinking up her sofa” or whatever. She doesn’t mind, her legs are stretched out before her and she has a cold beer between them. Beer she suspects Regina bought only for her, but she knows better than to ask. So much has changed over so little time, and she smiles thinking of how fucking ridiculous it all is. The Evil Queen, well not so evil as it turns out, has her over for dinner every Friday night. They schedule magic lessons on Saturdays and Emma can’t quite figure out when she became a person who scheduled anything. The drinks had started one evening when her own magic had left her drained and a tight lipped Regina poofed them back into the mansion and made her drink a tea brewed with leaves from her garden. It had tasted exactly like wet grass with a hint of tree-bark. Emma had asked for a beer to wash the taste off her mouth and now here they are. Walking the weird grey of friends, mothers to the same kid, and whatever the hell else they both are to each other. Because there is something or the hope of something between them, but at the end of each day Emma always decides to let it go. But the day isn’t over just yet today and because booze makes her braver and dumber and Regina’s looking warm under the soft light of her study and sipping her cider Emma thinks it’s fine to ask a question she probably has no business asking. 

 

“Did you ever love anyone after Daniel?” And Emma really is braver than she thought because her eyes do not leave Regina’s, not even when her stomach flips and her grip around her bottle tightens. 

 

Regina lowers her eyes at her from her spot on the sofa and her upper lip twitches a little. She tilts her head up for a second with her eyes closed and Emma recognizes this as the gathering of her strength. And Emma wonders how is it that she knows all these details about her. Regina shakes her head gently, like she’s fixing her dark hair that just keeps getting longer, and finally says too dryly “No. I never did.” She’s lying, there is something hiding in her eyes and she presses her lips together trying to keep it all in. Emma won’t push her, because she is not  _ that  _ much of an idiot. And well, she’s also fucking terrified of the truth.

 

\---------------

 

 

Henry’s sitting across from her at Granny’s, his books splayed open on the table. He had been busting his head open over some long math problems, the kind that has eight different questions built into one damn exercise. There had been a very Mills scowl on his face for a good forty minutes and she had decided that a vanilla shake and a burger was the best solution. Emma can still see the cogs of his brain working even as he takes a hungry bite from his burger. Count on the kid to be just obsessive as both of his mothers. She steals three fries and dips them in his shake before stuffing them into her mouth. He scrunches his nose and Emma knows she’s zapped him out of his zone. 

 

“Ma, don’t be gross!” He possessively drags his glass towards his end of the table.

 

“I am hardly the first person to eat fries like this.” Her eyes only narrow enough to be teasing. “Besides, aren’t teenage boys supposed to be into gross stuff, anyway?” 

 

“Not me.” There is this special kind of pride in his voice, like he wears his differences like his armour. A shining one at that, and shit, Emma really loves him. “I actually have taste buds.” 

 

“You sound like your mother.” She’s sure something spilled onto her voice because Henry doesn’t know quite what to make of it. “She’ll be happy to hear it. Too happy.” Emma smiles, and not just to reassure him. He nods and keeps eating with more refinement that she could ever have. Spoiled little prince, she thinks as her heart swells up.

 

“Mom looks at you funny sometimes.” Henry says when he’s down to his last fries. 

 

“Like she wants to kill me, funny?” Emma knows precisely the way he means it but wants to ignore it, because every day she decides to let it go. Every night tries not think about it, desperately fucking wishes that her mind didn’t wander into “what ifs” every time she looks at Regina longer than she should. 

 

“Ma....” Henry rolls his eyes and it hurts so good to see how much theirs he is. “Forget it.” And maybe he’s satisfied with the seed he’s planted in her mind.

 

\-----------

 

“Anda bañate **,** hijo. Apestas.” Regina’s tone is stern but affectionate. Henry had just waltzed into the kitchen fresh from fencing practice. His hair is sticking up like angry rooster crest from all the sweat and his face is just as red as Emma’s turns when strained.. 

 

“Pero mom, I just. Can’t I eat first, por favor?” 

 

“I don’t know kid, your mom’s right. You really do reek. Water and soap might do you good.” He stinks like a gym bag that’s been left to dry out on a humid day. 

  
  


“I think I liked it better when you two weren’t ganging up on me.” It means the world that he can joke about this now and that she and Regina can laugh together over it. He hurries out of the room and Emma wonders if his growling stomach will beat the charms of a hot shower. And then she sees it, one of Regina’s funny looks. Emma can’t help it if something fucking tingles inside her. 

 

“What?” She asks dumbly. 

 

“You understood what I said to him just now.” It isn’t a question and there is so much emotion Regina is trying to keep from her voice. 

 

“Uuh..yeah.” Emma replies and looks away for a second, because she doesn’t know where this is heading. 

 

“That was Spanish, Emma.” 

 

“Oh...that. Yeah. It’s weird to explain, I guess.” 

 

“Try.” Regina’s eyebrow is raised but there is so much vulnerability in her expression that Emma bites her lip and pulls on her sleeves suddenly feeling so inadequate. 

 

“Uh. OK. I picked up some over the years, growing up. But it was never good. Then you gave me your memories of you and him and I don’t know. I guess something from those memories found mine and well...it turned into me being able to speak it. Back in New York I just thought I was just gifted as hell.” Emma knows she hasn’t been too coherent but it’s the best she can do when she’s the sole focus of Regina’s attention like this. 

 

Fuck, now there is such intensity on Regina’s face and she’d squirm in her seat if she could.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” It sounds almost like an apology, like Regina expects her to hate it. To hate her. Because maybe that’s all she’s over gotten. 

 

Emma shrugs because she can’t really do any better. “I like it. Kinda like a freebie. Plus, it would have been awkward if Henry spoke it and I didn’t it, right?” 

 

“Henry...he spoke it? He remembered?” Shit. Shit. There is just hope and brokenness in her right now and she doesn’t know how to deal with it. 

 

“He never forgot, Regina.” Emma smiles as Regina does, her eyes brimming with tears. 

 

\------------

 

“ Mi amor….” Regina sighs and she doesn’t miss the way Emma glances at her as if she’s addressing her. “Yes, they’re on the top shelf in the pantry. Save some for Emma.” She says into the phone and feels a particular tenderness within as she hangs up. It’s been happening often, more so than she could ever admit. More than she deserves, an old voice in the back of her mind whispers. 

 

“Kid’s raiding the kitchen for peanut butter cookies, isn’t he?” Emma asks readjusting the rearview mirror, as if it isn’t perfectly level. She always needs to busy herself, to act as if her mind is never focused on one thing. It’s easier to fake detachment that way, to pretend that special consideration hadn’t just been awarded to her. Regina knows and wonders when she came to understand Emma so completely. 

 

“He’s like a perpetually hungry cyclone.” She laughs because their son is growing up and he’s theirs. Finally theirs. “Takes after you, I suppose.” 

 

“Or he’s just a fourteen year-old boy.” Emma’s voice light and she can’t recall ever detecting that lightness before. Regina’s eyebrow quirk up and there is the etching of a smile on her face and she waits for Emma to figure it out. “This is your way of telling me I eat like a child. Again. Isn’t it?” 

 

“Make of it what you will, dear.” This time it’s she who pretends to be occupied with something other than the woman sitting opposite to her. Regina checks the calendar on her phone, even if she’s memorized all her appointments and meetings. 

 

Emma just rolls her eyes and plays with her shoddy car radio and the heating. It’s cold enough out that their breath condenses and that the skin between her fingers cracks if it’s exposed for too long. Somehow, Regina does not mind any of these things and tries to ignore the very obvious root of it. Even if she can feel Emma’s warmth cutting through this cold. She needn’t to bother with magic to feel heat coursing through her skin.

 

The radio is barely above pleasant whispers as Emma continues turning the old dial. Regina had never given Emma’s musical preferences too much thought, she had always assumed that it was the kind that accompanied men in spandex and muscle cars. A complete contradiction to the smooth fervor of Nina Simone and dramatic overtures she preferred in this world. The song she had settled on, however, tells an unexpected story. The guitar is gentle and a man’s voice was soft on the recording, it is something that could lull her to sleep. The words that lie over the melody catch Regina by her surprise;  they are heart-broken. “Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream. I was her love, she was my queen, now a thousand years in between.” The air becomes charged with something unnamable and instinctively her eyes fall on Emma. Her hands are gripping the wheel and there is a sharpness to her eyes and a tightness to her jaw. Emma’s chest rises just a bit unsteadily, as if something unwanted and painful is bubbling up to the surface. There is the chance that Emma is her...no. Regina cannot allow herself to entertain this possibility again, however briefly. She shakes her head and her gloved fingers readjust her hair, as if that will help with her composure. 

 

“What is this thing you wanted to show me?” Regina thinks it a small mercy to remind her what it is that brought them out here in the first place.  

 

“Oh, right.” Emma’s shoulders sag and her jaw relaxes. “Yeah. I don’t know what it is? Leroy said he saw something big and shifty move in the woods last week. A couple of campers swore the felt the ground shake like if a giant had been walking near them.” 

 

“And?” 

 

“And there is almost nothing to show for it. I had Ruby search the woods and all she came up was the smell of wild orchids and blood. Whatever the hell that means. I don’t know, I was kinda hoping you’d have some idea of what’s going on.” Her eyes are pleading, like those of a student not wanting to disappoint her favorite teacher. 

 

“It sounds as if something crossed over. The fabric between worlds must be thinner than we all thought.” Regina felt her brow furrow. “Those descriptions are too vague to be remotely helpful. It could be anything” 

 

“Well, whatever it is, we need to handle it.” She notices how there is very little hesitation in Emma’s voice and the lack of a dance around “we”.  Emma stops the car just at the section of the woods where the mouth to the sea begins. “Come on.” There is excitement painted across her face and it is ridiculously contagious. 

 

“Are you sure the Sheriff hasn’t been misled? Wouldn't be the first time.” Regina asks with a dry playfulness after a few minutes of walking further into the woods. Mud covers the heels of her boots and she remembers a time when she relished the dirt that stuck to her. 

 

“Ha ha. Well we both know my bullshit meter is pretty finely tuned. So no, I don’t think I’ve been misled.” There is no bite to her words if anything it is concern that underlies them. “Do you feel any magic?” 

 

“No, I don’t feel anyone’s hand here. None of Gold’s stench or Zelena’s acidity.” As she speaks there is a change in the atmosphere. “But there is something in the air.” It’s heavier than she’s ever felt it, and there is heat rising from the ground. Beads of sweat are forming at the back of her neck.

 

“Yeah, no kidding. It’s starting to feel like a sauna in here.” Emma ties her hair into a messy pony-tail and checks the gun on her hip almost as a reflex. 

 

Regina doesn’t tell her to stay close because the words refuse to leave her but she lets Emma catch up with her and when she feels her hand casually hold her arm, the ground shakes. They stand side by side, looking everywhere for a sign of doom. It isn’t visible, not yet. The sounds of these woods are growing fainter she thinks, as the thing’s only grow louder. They are a thousand screeching monkeys, a hoard of colorful and rageful macaws and hundreds of croaking frogs. It’s angry, Regina realizes. A beast awaiting retribution. It materializes in front of them, it’s powerful and enormous. Incredible to behold and she almost admires it for its fierceness. But it needs to be fought and defeated; streams of magic don’t hurt it, her fire goes right through its muddy body. The closest thing it resembles is a snake, a giant clay snake. There is green and red mixed into it skin and it hisses every time it fails to hurt them. It seems to be fixated on Emma, striking in her direction the most. But once every few seconds it catches Regina’s scent and moves to attack her, almost like an afterthought. This beast is beyond them at the moment, Regina realizes, with its ferocity and single-mindedness. 

 

Her head begins to feel lighter on her shoulders and her vision blurs as her magic and fire remain as useful as a dull sword. She feels Emma’s energy frantic, just as hers and knows that she must be feeling the same weakness. This is not a fight they can win today, but it is one that seems to have been tailored for them. Regina pulls Emma away from one of the clay serpent’s savage blows and takes them away from the forest and to her study. She collapses on the sofa, her body almost limb and Regina is left standing over her. 

 

“What the fuck is that thing?” She breathes out and tries to sit up.Any other day she might have scolded her for her crudeness. But not now, not after they’d seen something so unbelievably fearsome.

 

“I…” Regina feels herself drop onto a spot next to her, Emma’s boots roughly grazing her thighs. She feels too exhausted to pretend to mind it. “I don’t know.” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this marks the beginning of the end. It was my attempt at making canon cleaner and more logical. I really wanted Regina to self-heal, instead of finding resolutions through pixie dust and and cardboard men. I needed and wanted to bring back Tibiche. Thanks for reading, leaving kudos and commenting! I always, always appreciate it.


	14. Blood Magic

There’s a crick on her neck, Emma can feel it before she’s fully awake. Fuck. She struggles to open her eyes and feels sheets of paper brushing her nose. Her elbows are stiff and now she remembers, she’d fallen asleep on a desk. Her ass had been handed to her by ancient volumes and really not understanding more than ten words in a row had proven to be too much for her fried brain. Wincing, Emma lifts her head to allow herself to admire the mess that the room is. It had been well past midnight when she’d conked out in Regina’s study, and by the looks of it, she had gone through the rest of her personal library without her. Parchment everywhere, books splayed open, the smell of bitter coffee and her boots discarded by the window. Hours of reading to come up nothing about the damn giant snake from the woods. Not one mention in any of Regina’s books or notes and it didn’t help that the thing had sucked some of their energy. At least, that’s what they had both concluded.

 

Emma hadn’t mentioned to Regina that she had felt a migraine coming on when the snake had gone after her this morning. She had said nothing about her vision growing blurry and how she had felt all those things before. Or what had always followed after. Maybe it was stupid on her part, well, it was definitely dumb as shit to keep quiet about this, but Emma doesn’t want to imagine it’s relevant. It’s easier to pretend it isn’t and not having to open a can of worms, not having to speak of _her_ to Regina. It’s not because she doesn’t want to share this time, it’s not the old possessiveness she used to feel. It’s not the fear of being told she’s out of her goddamn mind, it’s something else Emma can’t wrap her head around. Not completely, anyway. In the back of her mind she knows doesn’t want Regina to be hurt by her not-dreams-dreams she hasn’t had in years about a woman she can’t remember. But is there anything about them capable of hurting Regina? There’s that confusing need to know that she could care enough to be wounded by Emma’s confession but there is also the desperation to keep her from any pain. They’re shitty thoughts to be having, but Emma can’t help it. Just like she can’t help a great many things about Regina.

 

Regina is curled into herself on one of the couches, her black pumps neatly placed against the coffee table. Her face looks like she had fought sleep until she lost the battle. Emma bites a smile back thinking about how she probably told herself she’d close her eyes for a minute, that there really was no need to climb the stairs and get into bed, she’d wake up soon and keep going. But it didn’t happen, and instead her blouse got bunched up at the back and her dress pants rode up at her ankles. Looking at her like this, with the light of her desk lamp shining yellow on her face, with her chest rising so evenly and her eyes barely fluttering Emma decides she can’t disturb her peace in any way. Regina isn’t made of glass, she knows this. She’s diamond hard when she wants to be, all fire and destruction when she needs to be. But Emma still can’t bring herself to tell her about the woman she’s never met, who she carries in that circle above her heart because it might hurt her. It might snatch away the hope of the something that lies between them, of the thing she lets go every night. It might take from her Regina’s funny looks and the little sparks whenever her skin touches Emma’s. She can’t lose that.

 

There’s too much Emma can’t reconcile and she’s back to understanding very little; it’s so fucking frustrating. Regina’s real, soft skin and hard edges. Lips that can be parted into  the brightest fucking smile or into a shit-your-pants snarl. Yes, Regina is real, but so _she_ had been, Emma thinks, her hand moving to feel the necklace on her chest.  She gets up from the desk and feels a blanket drop to the floor. Goddamn her if she doesn’t feel her heart jump imagining Regina draping it over her. Emma cracks her back for good measure, her eyes still stinging from sleep. She’s not awake enough to carry on without Regina, so Emma plops herself on the couch opposite her and closes her eyes. Maybe Emma will see _her_ again and be in a place where everything just fit together. If she could think of the right question to ask maybe this mess inside herself could be fixed.The last thing she feels before drifting off to sleep is guilt she doesn’t fully understand.

 

                                                                                     -----------------------------------

Regina bites into her lower lip whenever she’s frustrated, presses her lips into a thin line when she’s focused, Emma learns. Her dark eyes narrow whenever she thinks she might have found something important and she exhales heavily once she’s realized that it’s useless. These are not things she should have memorized but she had. Emma can’t stop herself. Regina would never admit it, but her mood is tied to food as much as Emma’s is. She’d go for an apple instead of a bearclaw or a candy bar but whatever, it’s still being a pain in the ass because of low blood sugar. It’s been almost five days since the snake incident and they’ve had no luck in figuring out what the fuck it is. They’ve moved to the library, hoping that there would be something there. And so far, it’s only made Regina irritated and snappy...snappier. Emma’s own mind is just...not all there all the time. Caught in between non-memories and Regina. Would it be so awful if they just dropped this? Even if it’s just for a day?

 

“You know it’s been fives days since we saw that thing…” Emma whispers leaning over the table.

 

“Glad to see your numerical skills are still up to par, dear.” Regina replies with a huff and her eyes still scanning the page for a lead.

 

“My point is,” Emma rolls her eyes but doesn’t take the bait “it hasn’t come out of the woods. No one but us has even seen the whole thing…”

 

“You think it’s only targeting us?” Regina raises her eyes looking unsure as to where Emma is going with this. “ Well, it _was_ particularly zealous in its attacks towards you.”

 

“It only went after you when you got in its way. I’m just saying...maybe..” Emma licks her lips trying to find the right words or even the right thought.

 

“Maybe what, Miss Swan?” Yeah, Regina is definitely on low-blood sugar mode and is losing what little patience she has by the second.

 

“It isn’t as high a priority. If it’s only coming after me and trapped in the woods as it seems to be.” Emma doesn’t even know how she managed to get the words out.

 

Regina’s eyes soften with affection before they harden again. “If you think that’s in any way supposed to dissuade me from finding an answer…” Her grip on her pen tightens and Emma’s scared for a second she might throw it at her face. Better than a fireball, she supposes. “As if you being in danger isn’t enough reason to kill it.”

 

“Oh.” Is all Emma can manage to say because Regina is outraged because of her and for her.

 

“Besides, we don’t know if any of these assumptions are correct.” Regina can’t leave herself vulnerable for too long, Emma knows this all too well. “It could very well show up on Main Street and snack on one of the dwarves.”

 

“Yeah, OK..” She gets to her feet and pulls at her sleeves like she is still fourteen and awkward in her body.”I’m getting us lunch. No onions in your salad, right?” Emma has her own defense mechanisms. A break, she needs some distance and if Emma doesn’t leave to get food now Regina will really get unbearable.

 

Regina blinks at her, her gaze is warm and Emma feels the back of her neck getting hotter. “Yes, that’s right. Thank you, Emma.” It’s how things were between, so smooth flowing and fitting in some ways and so fucking difficult in the rest.

 

Emma drums her fingers against the counter at Granny’s, feeling her own stomach starting to rumble. Ruby is casually leaning against the counter with a grin on her face. Belle had come in for lunch too and she is laughing at something Ruby had said. Their eyes don’t leave the other and they’re happy. There is no hiding behind snark or a casual distance, they were just...Ruby and Belle. They had gotten together some time ago, and it had all seemed so natural.She had refrained from making any Beauty and the Beast jokes, she remembers. Mary Margaret had called it fate, maybe Emma had brushed it off. Regina had only said “This must be killing Rumplestiltskin. Good.” Emma had laughed at that a little too much. She remembers asking Ruby how it happened because sometimes her curiosity really did get the best of her. Ruby had given her a toothy smile, reminding her of the wolf, and said “I guess we both got sick of pretending.” Her answer had made Emma uneasy at the time and watching them now she felt a pang of...envy. How could things be that simple? They weren’t even straight-forward inside her own mind and they really weren’t that uncomplicated between her..and..between her and Regina. Not when there is a not-dream-dream woman to consider on top of their own selves. She is too grateful when Granny hands her a brown bag because she can’t keep looking at Belle and Ruby. And Emma wants that so much, so fucking much it hurts and she really wishes it were easy to stop pretending. It never is with her and Regina. Fuck it all to hell.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma had rushed into the library as if something had been chasing her, perhaps it had, Regina thinks trying to keep her brow from furrowing. She had a noticed a strangeness to her character after encountering the clay snake; too caught up in her thoughts and stepping on her feelings with the heel of her boot. There is a new sort of indifference to her own person, for her safety. Regina could scream at her, but that would hardly help. Her eyes won’t meet Regina’s and she has said very little about anything. There hadn’t been this quietness and tense stillness before she left for Granny’s and now she’s absentmindedly taking small bites of her food. Regina is itching to ask her what’s wrong but doesn’t know if she’ll get a satisfactory answer from Emma. All she can do for now is spare her glances and hope that her eyes are soft enough and that her gaze conveys something. It’s the line they have tacitly agreed to walk, between companionship and isolation. Regina pretends that she is not affectionate, that there isn’t warmth coursing through her with Emma. Her vulnerability is always coated in iron. Emma pretends she is not the recipient of her small attentions, though her voice and eyes are not shy about their gentleness and gratitude. But she’ll look away from Regina for a second or two, pull at the ends of the soft flannel of her sleeves and bite back a sheepish smile. It is becoming exhausting and confusing walking this ever-thinning line.

 

Some time ago when Emma had sat on her floor and there was warm cider in Regina’s belly, she had asked her if she had ever loved anyone after Daniel. Panic and pain had rushed through her at the moment, recalling that night when she had slipped from her faceless woman’s hands and how the flames of grief and rage had engulfed until dawn. Regina had remembered too vividly what it was to be left alone with power and darkness, to have the instruments of her presumed salvation rip her away from her and condemn her soul to her body. So Regina had shaken her head and lied, because it was easier than the truth. There was a chance that truth could have wounded Emma, she dares to think. A possibility of _something_ between them _._ Not for the first time, she wonders if Emma and the woman are one in the same. It’s always been an intrusive thought of hers, capable of giving and destroying hope in equal measure. Regina always walks herself through the impossibilities of that theory and tries to move on, give her mind facts to curve its want of connections and solutions. Today, she chooses to believe that if Emma were her, she would have said something. There would have been a clear and obvious sign of it. An old voice whispers again, that it is more than she deserves, that the Saviour is worthy of so much more. Why should darkness expect to love and be loved in return?

 

Catching Emma’s eyes studying her, she realizes that she had allowed her thoughts to grow obsessive. Her energy has to be channeled into something useful, so she wipes a napkin on her lips and stands up to search the shelves for a title that may be remotely helpful. Regina pulls an obscure sounding Spanish title and a compilation of battle memoirs for Emma, she’ll appreciate it more than she could. With the two books in hand she returns to their corner and Emma has switched from avoidance to having an expectant look on her face. Regina can’t help but note how everything is so _damn_ complicated between the two of them. A sigh escapes her as she hands Emma the book.

 

“What’s this?” She asks with uncertainty.

 

“Battle memoirs.” Regina answers shortly. “It’s mostly knights being vainglorious and the atrocious old grammar of scribes.”

 

“And this is supposed to be helpful?” Emma sounds dubious as she flips through the yellowed pages.

 

“You never know with these things.” It’s an excuse, a way to avoid saying that it’s simply acting as a distraction at this point. “I thought the Sheriff would appreciate searching for clues…” And this is her attempt to dissipate the awkwardness

 

“Not with giant clay snakes she doesn’t.” She mumbles as she begins reading the first entry.

 

An hour sluggishly goes by but Regina is not willing to cast aside her book just yet, not when it’s keeping her mind busy. Despite Emma’s initial hesitancy, she seems to be pretty engrossed in her own volume, occasionally snorting or scoffing. If they don’t find anything in this hour at least she could say it was effective in lightening the mood.

 

“I cannot believe this...” Emma suddenly says, pride spilling onto her words. “I think I found something.” She hands over the book, open to a crude and flat illustration of a giant serpent standing over the corpses of knights, a King wielding a black sword and wounded knight watching from the sidelines. Thick black letters accompany the image in the next page.

 

_Certaynly no greater horror there was than this creature which devoured the souls of myne brothers in these Dark Mountains. Dropped to the ground they did not yet dead bvt no life they had. From the bloodyed battle ground it rose. No iron could pyerce its body.It was His Majesty King Richard who slew the beast with his great black sword. No greater lord know I than King Richard, no better monarch hath ever been borne to our Kingdom._

 

“Finally, just what we needed.” Regina lets a small laugh leave her as she looks over at Emma looking extremely pleased with herself.

 

“We found our beastie, didn’t we?” The spark returns to her eyes as she speaks and Emma is holding her gaze steady on Regina just as she feels a familiar warmth spreading through. She is glad to say the least.

 

“I…” Suddenly memories click together from decades ago. From when she was a girl with a crown that fit too big on her head and Snow had asked her to read from an old history book her father had given her. The memory makes her feel sick, just like she had felt that day. Head light on her shoulders and the rest of her still weak and tender from her first soul separation. King Richard the serpent slayer and King Richard the Conqueror are one in the same. Responsible for a great genocide in the Dark Mountains; now she has the words for the deeds of the Kings of old. “I think we found more than that.”

 

“We did?”

 

“For one, that snake seems to be blood magic from a long lost tradition.” Regina is trying to keep her tone temperate. Even at her worst, the Queen did not have the stomach to shed the blood of so many, to destroy things of magic and beauty. Hers had been a different kind of hatred and evil, more emotional and volatile.

 

“Blood magic?” Emma tilts her head like a confused and curious pup.

 

“It cannot be taught to outsiders. It’s born out of desperation, and to be redundant, from blood. Your grandfather’s Kingdom invaded and claimed the Dark Mountains. There was a popular ballad about how the green and brown of the dirt became red with the blood of its people.” This conversation is leaving a vile taste in her mouth. “I suppose this creature is some sort of ancient defense mechanism.”

 

“Well..that’s just. Fuck. I didn’t think that could happen in…”

 

“The Enchanted Forest? Believe me dear, empires existed all the same. Their horrors were simply more nobly dressed there, even if that seems impossible.”

 

“And the people of the Dark Mountains? What happened to them?” Emma’s eyes looked just like Henry’s when he had asked for another story before bed.

 

“Most were killed. The survivors were allowed to stay in the mountains, but forced to assimilate.” Regina remembers how much they despised King Leopold and Snow and how they had silently supported her own reign. Ever cautious of another ruler who might harm them.

 

“So that’s why it’s been a bitch to track down this snake in all these books, right?” Emma is repulsed and it brings Regina a small comfort.

 

“Yes, precisely. No records of their own were left.” Regina closes both volumes and presses her nails against her palms hoping the sensation might take her mind off her headache.

 

“Well that’s just great. How the hell are we supposed to get rid of it then?”

 

“King Richard’s sword, it was made special to fight against the magic in the Dark Mountains.” Regina remembers how the Dark One had fashioned King Richard a sword of obsidian to triumph the mountains and its people. She can still hear Snow’s hushed but sure voice had declared that only the evil dealt with the Dark One. “Rumplestiltskin made it for him when it seemed they would be defeated.” She hopes Emma does not ask how she knows all these things because she cannot speak of that day when she struggled  to stay composed; Regina fears collapsing into tears if she does.

 

But Emma just slumps in her chair and blows air through her mouth in a equine manner. “Why does it always fucking come back to Gold? Could he not be involved, for _once_?”

  
                                                                     ------------------------------------

The plan is so simple that Regina is completely certain that it will not work, she’d even said this to Emma. She’d shaken her head and said that the best plans are always the ones with fewer steps. Get Gold to give them the sword and vanquish the serpent. Two easy steps. Regina still feels uneasy about it. Emma’s confidence is doing to nothing to ease her anxiety, if anything it is adding to it.

 

“Maybe you’re overthinking it.” She tells Regina when they’re nearing Gold’s shop.

 

“Forgive me for being skeptical. I forget that most of our plans are always perfectly executed” Regina replies sardonically as she walks ahead and opens the shop the door. The bell chimes in an empty showroom.

 

“Regina…” Emma says with the patience a priest has for a sinner and grabs her elbow as if to slow her down.

 

“Sheriff. Madame Mayor, and here I thought I could close shop early today.” Gold interrupts, his cane rapping against the wooden floor. “Tell me, what can I do for you?”

 

“We need a sword.” Emma speaks before she can, it’s obvious to her that she wants this to be over. To cross out the first item on their checklist.

 

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific, Miss Swan.” Gold looks like he had been expecting them which doesn’t surprise Regina. He may not be responsible for the serpent in the woods but he has probably been aware of it for some time. She refuses to think about any of his possible motives, Regina has had enough of his games to last her four life times.

 

“The sword you fashioned for King Richard, Gold.” Now it’s her own impatience that comes shining through. “You must have it, don’t pretend otherwise.”

 

“Indeed I do.” Gold pauses and eyes Emma greedily. Regina feels her blood boiling and knows Gold must smell her magic bubbling up to the surface because there’s a happy cruelty to him. “There is of course the subject of payment. And since it’s Miss Swan who will be wielding it, she must be the one to pay the price. It is her ancestor’s sword, after all.”

 

“What? OK. I…” Emma hadn’t considered King Richard to be related to her and is obviously thrown by it. Everything starts making sense to Regina, of course the snake would focus so ferociously on Emma. King Richard’s blood runs through her veins, the snake thinks her to be her sworn enemy. Guilty of the murder of the people it was meant to protect. It’s the purest form of blood magic.  

 

“Just name your price, Rumpelstiltskin.” Regina spits out.

 

“It’s nothing much, Your Majesty. Just Miss Swan’s most prized possession.”

 

Emma actually laughs in his face. “What could you possibly want with my baby blanket?”

 

“Aha, you misunderstand me. I have no interest in things that were given to you. I want the thing you chose for yourself. That is truly your most treasured possession or am I mistaken?”

 

Emma’s demeanor changes and whatever trace of laughter she had is now gone from her lips and her eyes are dark. Her hand travels to her necklace, a delicate circle above her heart. She traces its outline almost obsessively and Regina doesn’t know why the gesture seems so familiar and intimate to her, almost like a promise or a secret. There is reluctance to giving it up, that much is clear. It truly is what she valued the most and yet Regina had never given it much thought. And there it had been, lying in plain sight with an untold story.

 

“Fine. You can have it.”Emma says after clearing her throat. Her usually clumsy fingers handle it with great care as she removes it from her neck and hands it over. Gold’s hand looks dirty as he takes it, almost like it had looked when he had been covered in scales.

 

“The sword. Now.” Regina practically barks. They can’t be here longer than absolutely necessarily, her skin is already crawling. And a shadow is lying darkly over Emma’s expression.

 

Gold produces a long black case from the back of the store and opens it unceremoniously. It’s an ugly thing, its edges are rough and crudely made. Obsidian was never meant to be used in that way, it was unnaturally put together. If anything,it resembles an oversized dagger with monstrous looking hilt. Emma stands over it, studying it. It’s a perverse mirror of when she claimed her father’s sword and she looks even less eager to pick it up this time. She reaches for the hilt and removes it from its casing;it suits her ill.

 

“Ah! Son of a bitch….what the hell is this?!” Emma exclaims in pain.  Regina feels sparks between her fingers as she glares at Gold. Her eyes travel to Emma’s hand and sees it covered in the crimson of her blood, and fire furiously ignites in her hands.

 

“Only blood magic can fight blood magic, Sheriff.” He turns to Regina with obvious amusement. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge me, Regina.I recommend you spare me your huff and puffs. Obsidian requires its natural enemy’s blood to trick it into killing a thing so like itself.”

 

“That is the most disgusting I’ve ever heard.” Emma breathes out unsteadily and Regina feels the fire extinguish from her palms. Her hand travels to Emma’s lower back to guide her out; before either one of them pounces on Gold.

 

“Good luck, ladies.”

 

“Go to hell, Gold.” Regina slams the door closed behind her.

 

* * *

 

Her hand is gripping her great-great-great-whatever sword’s and it’s all red and throbbing with pain. Emma doesn’t know where her head is and she misses the cool metal of her necklace against her skin. Figures she’d lose it just when she needed a reminder of a special sort strength _._ _Hers_. She wonders if this is some sort of sign, but of what? Emma wants, needs so fucking much. She desperately wishes that woman she can’t remember and Regina to be one, that way Emma wouldn’t need to choose. Wouldn’t have to lose one for the other.It’s fucked up and unfair. She’s tired of being confused, of not being able to pinpoint her feelings. It’s been five days of mood swings, of trying to quiet her mind. Five days telling herself to just fucking stop staring at Regina,of saying less than she feels. And she’s tired, so tired. Fuck’s sake.  Her free hand keeps going to the empty place above her heart and she realizes she’s been quiet for some time, walking next to Regina towards the woods. She had been talking about ancient magic, time and space, how maybe the snake had been absorbed by some damn portal in the midst of the battle some five hundred years ago and ended up here. And Emma just doesn’t fucking care why this is all happening, she just wants it to be over. This whole thing is gross and she feels dirty, but Regina had reminded her that it had to be done, no matter how conflicted they had come to be about it. She’s not the only one with King Richard’s blood, not the only one in danger. Her son, her mother, her brother.

 

The ground is soft under her boots, wet with rain. The air is still crisp and light, the cold is drying her lips. The snake is not here yet, and she still hasn’t said a word. Emma just keeps walking, the wound in her hand growing stiff.

 

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you?” Regina hisses, her hand grabs Emma’s and turns her around. Regina’s brown eyes are practically burning into hers.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a blatant lie and Emma swears she can see fury rising to Regina’s face, like it used  when they first met. It’s a different kind of funny look. Like one misstep and she might kill her.

 

“Don’t lie to me, Miss Swan. You’ve been impossible to live with these past few days.”

 

“Oh, I’ve been impossible?! When you’ve been grouchy an…”

 

“No, don’t turn this around on me. That won’t work. Now talk.” Emma doesn’t know how can Regina be so fucking infuriating and endearing all in one.

 

“I…I.I don’t even know how to begin.” She admits with her voice growing softer. There’s so much she needs to say, important things that could ruin everything she loves. “Do we have to do this now?”

 

“No, we don’t.” Emma’s tone seemed to have deflated Regina but her eyes have not left hers and her hand is still gripping Emma’s. With Regina like this, there’s a tight safety. She forgets about the empty space above her heart feeling Regina’s energy coursing through her. Emma makes her choice, and it isn’t as difficult as she thought it would be.“So long as you’re done pretending…”

 

“I think I am.” Her pulse quickens because Emma knows precisely the secret meaning behind her words. She’s aware of how fucked she is and how thrilled she is about it. “Where is this thing anyway?” Emma asks breaking their gaze to look around at their surroundings.

 

Famous last words, Emma thinks as she starts feeling the air getting heavier and hears the sounds of a jungle. Sweat begins running down her back and making her feel sticky and hot under her jacket.

 

“You had to ask.” Regina throws at her as she untangles her hand from hers, fire in her eyes and hands. There is something about seeing her like this that does things to Emma. She’s wildfire, and a storm all in one. Yeah, how could she look at Regina like this and not choose her?

 

The snake materializes into thin air, standing so proud and strong in front of them. It’s fucking terrifying.  And like before, it’s follows Emma’s movements, aiming to bite her or wrap itself around her. There isn’t an opening to drive the sword through it, it moves too quickly. Regina attempts to distract it to give her a shot, maybe the thing will turn around and Emma will be able to make her move. It’s harder than she thought, so much for being an easy two step plan. Regina had been right about the plan sounding too simple, because of-fucking-course she had been. Emma starts feeling nauseous as she feels a familiar pain creeping at the back of her head. And all she thinks is not now, please not now, don’t let me pass out. Regina then throws a stream of purple and fire at the snake and it finally breaks its string of failed strikes on Emma to focus on her attacker. It lunges after her, and when it misses it stands in front of her, holding Regina in some sort of trance. Emma sees that it’s readying its body to strike again and fuck no, that’s not happening. Not when she had finally made a choice, not when she finally knows what she wants. She and Regina could not end before having ever begun. So Emma pushes her out of the way, defeating the point of Regina’s efforts she realizes too late. The snake hisses and tightens its wet and warm body around hers and raises her up to its jaws. Her head is pounding like a motherfucker and her vision is growing black.

 

Before Emma can even register her own movements she drives the ugly sword through the roof of its mouth. “I’m sorry.” She whispers realizing she’d been crying. It doesn’t uncoil itself just yet and she’s still up in the air, her hand inside its jaws. One of its fangs had pierced her skin and more than just blood is leaving her. Emma can feel herself slipping away from consciousness, her limbs feel like a rag doll’s and she knows it won’t be long until she blacks out. Shit, shit she should have mentioned this to Regina. Regina...she feels her magic surround her and it smells like cinnamon, apples, and hot coal as it lowers her down to the ground. It’s familiar, safe, and so warm. It makes her believe that everything will be fine, that she’s fucking unbreakable. Like a tight and perfect circle, like she doesn’t need a reminder of that strength on her skin because she has the real thing enveloping her. Oh. Oh. _Oh._ Emma had been so stupid, so blind. She should fucking kick herself. It’s had always been her...it is always going to be Regina.

 

“ Emma…”  Regina whispers in a mix of anger and concern as she pulls Emma’s head onto her lap. “You absolute idiot.”

 

“I know.” Her eyes lock onto Regina’s as she gazes down at Emma and then it all goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Count on Emma to fulfill her prophecy without even trying. She's the best kind of idiot.


	15. The Thickest Threads

There are broken twigs in Emma’s hair, rough and brittle tangled in its smooth curls. It’s all Regina can think about as she looks down at her. Emma’s breathing is uneven and her forehead is damp with sweat. Her green eyes lie still and shut. She is still clutching the obsidian sword with a bloody grip and Regina notices a puncture wound just below her wrist. Blood drips from it, as if it were coming from a half closed faucet. Regina presses her palm against the wounds and heals them with a flash of violet. She had hoped that would make open her eyes, and make her complain about Regina’s landing being too rough but she remained silent and still on her lap. Regina calls her name many times growing more desperate by each second she doesn’t reply. It doesn’t matter that the snake had consumed itself, not when Emma lies against her thighs unconscious and unresponsive. Nothing could matter outside this fact. In a whirl of purple she takes them away to her bed at the mansion. Handling her head with a secret gentleness she reserves for Emma, Regina slips away. Her heart breaks at the sight that lies there. Emma with her blonde hair spread onto the pillows, a sword in her hand pointing towards her feet and her eyes shut. She looks like a fallen knight, fixed for her burial. The only thing that keeps her composed is the clear but unsteady rise of Emma’s chest.One of her hands runs through Emma’s hair and Regina lets it cup her cheek for a second.  Answers, she needs answers. Feeling fury kindling within her, Regina disappears in a cloud of smoke to Gold’s shop. 

 

“RUMPLESTILTSKIN!” Regina shouts in the way only the Queen could. 

 

“No need to raises our voices, Your Majesty.” He says appearing from the back-room. “I’m surprised to see you back so soon.” 

 

“Cut the crap.” She bites and marches toward him. “What the hell did you do to Emma?!”

 

“Is the Sheriff unwell?” Gold isn’t one bit surprised, just entertained. “I take it she isn’t. It is,however, not my doing. Besides a blood offering, the sword is perfectly harmless to its wielder.” 

 

“That snake in the woods, then. It did something to her, didn’t it?!” Fire is threatening to explode from her fingers. She’d set the world aflame if she could, Regina recognizes this feeling too well. 

 

“Ah that clay beast? Pierced her skin, did it?” He smiles knowingly. Regina doesn’t have the time to consider his involvement. In fact, she is positive that she doesn’t care. 

 

“Yes. Are we going to keep playing this inane guessing game? Tell me how to mend this.” 

 

“See, that snake was designed by its people to devour the souls of their enemies.”  A chill invades Regina when she remembers reading the words in that knight’s account but failing to grasp the depth significance. They had been so rash in their actions and this is the price they paid. “Usually, that would mean a half-existence, the death of the soul while the body slowly decays. But if Miss Swan was successful in slaying the beast…” 

 

“She was.” Regina’s back stiffens and her she feels her chest tighten with anxious anger. 

 

“Then her soul was simply extracted from her body.” 

 

“How. Do. I. Fix. It?” Her nostrils are flaring and her knuckles are white with the strength she uses to keep her flames extinguished. 

 

“You have a choice, dearie. You could sit at the foot of the Sheriff’s bed and wait and see if her soul ever returns on its own accord or…” 

 

“Or what?!” This time a fire erupts from her and he looks at her in that same gleeful manner as he did when he first caused her to ignite in  rage. 

 

Gold merely glances down at the flames. “Or you could retrieve it yourself” He takes a second to study the fear that Regina knows now radiates from her face. “Something tells me you know how, Madam Mayor.”

 

Regina feels as if all the wind and fire has been knocked out of her, her mouth grows dry with horror and she can do nothing more than to run out of the shop. The cold air of the street feels like a slap to the face and she can’t breathe. Her head is swimming with thoughts of Emma, of two souls; one good and sweet and the other so scarred and grey.Vague memories of a warm place, and a woman with no face. Regina is not completely present in the moment, her feet quicken their pace on their own volition and her breathing becomes shallow. It’s a panic attack, she is  drowning in a tempest. The heels boots sound strong against the concrete and the wind is chaffing her and Regina thinks she at least can try to at least to ground herself on these solid things. But it only worsens when she remembers that when distress and terror came her soul used to take refuge in the arms of a woman she had loved so deeply. That reality had vanished long ago, and the idea of trying to find her again makes Regina sick.How could she be capable of such a thing again? Someone crashes against her and it’s enough to make her realize she had managed to walk some eight blocks. Her mind can focus on the material again, have clean and untangled thoughts.Regina registers that the person is bent over, picking up thread, fabric, buttons, and all sorts of trim. 

 

“Ha, I was so worried about balancing the chiffon and glue gun in my arm that I missed you coming my way. I’m very sorry, Your Majesty.” She says and it’s the lack of irony in her words that makes Regina realize that it’s Bessie, one of her old handmaidens. Owner of the only dress shop in town, she remembers making it so when she constructed the curse.

 

“It’s quite all right, Bessie.” Regina breathes out, bending over to help her. “And drop the title.” 

 

“Old habits die hard, I suppose.” She gives her a shy smile. Regina hands her the stray buttons and trim she’s collected as they both get to their feet. “Are you OK, Your Majesty?..Sorry.” 

 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Regina smooths out her coat and sticks her chin out as if to add credibility to her words; an old trick of the Queen. 

 

“I might be overstepping my bounds here, but…” Bessie had always been the one to forego protocol when it came to Regina. “You don’t look like it. I should know, I waited on you every time you weren’t.” 

 

Regina is taken aback, concern expressed on her behalf is still rare and felt even stranger. “I…” She hesitates and considers if she should be speaking at all when Emma is lying alone and soulless on a bed. “There’s something I need to do. Something I haven’t done in a long time and quite frankly, I don’t know if I’m able.”

 

“I saw you struggle every day you lived in the Royal Castle. I watched you piece yourself together after rough nights and smile all through it. Right until you couldn’t do it anymore. Whatever it is, I’d wager you’re strong enough to do it.” 

 

Regina wants to argue that it’s not about strength, but about goodness. She wants to say that it is something that had marked her so deeply and had given her the final push into shadow and flame when she lost it. No, it is not about strength; she had never lacked it. But Regina lets the warmth Bessie’s good intentions wash over her and manages a grateful but weak smile. “Thank you.” She tells her quietly. 

 

“Take care, Your Majesty.” With a nod from Regina, she walks away. As she watches her leave, air fills Regina’s lungs and she feels steadier on her feet. In another swirl of purple she leaves the streets for the mansion. 

  
  


“Ma, wake up. Please. You’re scaring me.” Regina sees Henry sitting by Emma’s side as the room materializes around her. “Mom!” He turns to her and his eyes are trying to blink away his tears. He looks so much younger, like he did when he was four and rattled by a bad dream in the dead of the night. “Mom, what’s wrong with her?” 

 

“Hijo…”She sits next to him and combs his overgrown hair away from his face. For a brief moment, Regina worries that he might believe her responsible. “Emma is…” 

 

But before she can begin to explain he bends over Emma’s face and places a kiss on her forehead. His shoulders sag when Emma’s condition remains unchanged. “Why? Why isn’t it working?” He turns around to face Regina and he almost looks mad. “Have  _ you _ tried?”

 

It was a complete question, there is no doubt to what her son meant. A clear recrimination. Panic threatens to return from the depths of her and she is glad there is a non-answer to be readily given. “It’s not a curse, sweetheart.” She swallows when his expression turns confused. “Her soul was pushed out of her body.” 

 

“ Is she..de..?” His voice breaks over the words and she reaches for him. 

 

“No, no, no. She’s still very much alive. Emma would never be so easily brought down.”  Regina puts her arms around him and Henry crumbles into her.

 

“Are we getting her back?” He mumbles against her shoulder. 

 

“Yes. Yes we are.” 

 

                                                                                                -------------------------

 

The Sun has all but set and the cold keeps getting sharper. They’re out in her garden, collecting herbs and various leaves. After the shock had worn away and tears had dried, Henry had started firing a thousand questions at her. Regina’s answers served to upset him, feeling that he had been shut out by both his mothers. They should have told him about the snake, Henry had said half shaking, there must have been something he could have done to help. He wasn’t a little kid anymore, he didn’t need protecting. Regina had kept from telling him that fourteen is still much too young and that he’d always be their baby boy, they’d always shield him from any danger. Instead she’d said he could help her return Emma’s soul to her and he  jumped to it without another word from her. She doesn’t miss how he seemed to be disappointed that their mission only took them to the backyard and it was something as humble as pulling roots and clipping leaves. 

 

“How is this going to return her soul?” His tone isn’t exasperated but curious, trying to connect all the dots. 

 

“It’s for a brew. Careful with that, tiene leche. It’ll burn your fingers if you’re not careful.”  Regina says gently. “You want to hold the leaf by the tip and nip it right here…”She shows him with her own knife and holds the leaf for him to see. This moment is an indian summer, she realizes. Basking in its warmth is practically mandatory. 

 

“Is this magic?” He asks carefully

 

“A kind of it, yes,”A small laugh escapes her. “My mother would have called it peasant magic.” 

 

“Because of the plants?” 

 

“No,” She takes care not to prematurely bruise the mint leaves. “It lacks ambition. Relies on temperate emotion and simple work.” 

 

“It’s selfless.” Henry completes handing her a fistful of leaves. 

 

“ Mi niño, always ahead of the curve.” She beams at him. 

 

They head inside shedding their muddy boots at the door. Henry only watches her as he sits at the island, not quite knowing what to do with his hands, so much like Emma. She sets a pot of water on the stove to boil and arranges the small treasures they collected. Regina motions for him to come help;  she teaches him how to chop the leaves so fine that they almost become powder, to put in black peppercorns, cloves and cinnamon just as the water begins to warm up. She tells him to inhale all the aromas, to let his toes curl to them and his face become warm with steam. And Henry takes it all in, happy to have magic to learn, magic that has steps and no danger of darkness. This is something she can pass down, something they can share and play with. It’s more than she could have hoped for when she first held him in her arms and then she remembers that all indian summers end when the cold creeps in. As the water begins bubbling and the kitchen has been permeated by the brew, fear cuts her deep. Regina had made her choice and it all it had taken was her son sitting at Emma’s side. Even that is a lie, there had never been a question of what she would pick and her own certainty frightens her. Waiting at the foot of Emma’s bed hoping and praying every day would never do, Regina had never been one to sit idly by for better or for worse. Her mind is already reeling, with unfocused memories of a faceless woman and Emma, desperately needing to be proven right after all these years. It is suddenly not so impossible for them to be one, but a cautious and jaded voice reminds her that hope is not something she can afford. Regina could have her wishes, her hopes but that’s all they could ever be. Life had been cruel and could only grant her coincidences after it had gotten what it wanted from her.Maybe loving Emma should be enough, her greed be damned. 

 

“So we somehow just get Ma to drink this and she gets her soul back?” He takes a whiff off the steam escaping the pot.

 

“This is not for Emma,” He turns to look at her with a new question written on his features “It’s for me.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” His arms are crossed on his chest and she can almost feel a new argument settling in. 

 

“Her soul may or may not return on its own, it’d be a painful waiting game. It needs a little help.” She places a hand on the counter to steady herself. 

 

“And what’s this supposed to do?” His nervous eyes go from the brew to her. 

 

“It’s meant to separate my soul from my body.” Regina tries to give him a smile, one that isn’t sad or resigned. But he scowls and moves farther away from her. 

 

“Qué? Mom. I...what?” Yes, so much like Emma sometimes. “No. There has to be another way.” 

 

“There isn’t one. I’ve done it before, mi vida. Many times before.” Regina confesses and the words feel like a weight that’s been lifted off her chest. 

 

“Back when you were evi..” Henry thinks better of his wording. “When you were the Queen?”  

 

“No, before I became her,” Her eyes grow softer as her voice becomes smaller. “It cannot be done when hate and anger are the thickest threads of your heart.You would not survive it if it were so.” Doubt lingers in her words. 

 

“You’re scared,” He says with an authority he could have only learned from her. “Don’t be, Mom.” Henry closes the distance between them and buries his face into her neck. Her heart swells when he doesn’t offer to take her place or have Snow or Charming replace her. 

 

“Henry, if I fail…” 

 

“You won’t. I know you won’t. Ma knows you won’t.” There is no arguing with him, even if terror still lies at the pit of her stomach. Regina wonders just when she became worthy of such faith. 

 

                                                                                                   ------------------------

  
  


The best way to do it is to recreate the first time as close she can. The brew is steaming in a mug next to her on the floor, Regina sits cross-legged on a petate she had gotten from Tibiche and is stripped down to a sports bra and shorts she seldom wears. They’re by the fireplace in her bedroom, facing Emma with her restless expression and erratic breathing. Henry is eyeing Regina with a mix of awe and trepidation, he has never seen her like this. Bare with so much vulnerability that is wholly unrelated to him or even them. 

 

“I still want you to call your grandparents if this gets to be too much.” Regina is firm though she is not keen on the idea of the Charmings witnessing any of this. 

 

“I’ll be fine, Mom.” He is stubborn and she would have it any other way. 

 

“Hijo, the truth is I don’t know how this will look to you. There’s no way of predicting what’s going to unfold. It could always not work.” 

 

“Mom…” Henry protests. “ Don’t say that, of course it’s going to work.” 

 

“I don’t want to lie to you,” There is a finality to her words which makes Henry nod in agreement. “Anything could happen to me. To Emma.” 

 

“OK. I’ll call Gramps and Gram if I can’t handle it.” He moves to hold her in his arms and mumbles. “Te quiero. I just need you to know that.”

 

“I do. I love you too.” Regina cups his cheek as he moves away.  

 

She picks up her mug and drinks the concoction in one smooth movement. The taste is worse than she remembers, hints of mint mixing unpleasantly with the sage, mango leaves,  the pepper and cinnamon and many other herbs. The disharmony of it is completely intentional, she had learned. Its purpose is to separate soul from body, something that should be an abomination, so it had to create a conflict between them. There had to be contradictions, to rip two things made for each other to make one grow and connect with the world around it. It’s a kind a violence, which can only be achieved through peace and serenity. Henry’s gentle  hands guide her head to the floor as she begins closing her eyes.

 

_ The room begins to expand far beyond its four walls, and the stars have replaced her vaulted ceiling. There are all kinds of sounds surrounding her, running water and the chirping crickets. Here she is, a part of something so much greater than sum of its parts. Regina searches for fear and finds none as she keeps walking with the ease of someone whose good fortune is well deserved.  _

 

_ There is wet grass and soft mud between her toes, and she feels her lips in joy parting at the sensation. A soft breeze blows and she keeps walking, light becoming the color of dusk and dawn as she goes along. She thinks she remembers this place, with its echoes and smooth feel on her skin. It’s all the corners she’s known and loved and some that still remain hidden to her. Time and space bend with the magic of it, stretching back and forth. Infinity and eternity. This is what it means to be complete, to have the thickest threads of one’s heart be love and compassion, this is peace. Regina vaguely remembers a heaviness weighing down on her, and now there isn’t even a shadow of it. If before she had been drowning in a tempest now she walked on its waters as they settled beneath her. How extraordinary did the little things feel in this place, and perhaps this is what life is supposed to be. No grand prophecies, no wars, no swords just the rustling of tree tops and thick drops of rain. Just the smell of apple and coffee, cinnamon and maple syrup.  _

 

_ The mud between her toes turns into a fine and white sand and in the distance stands a small dock. The water is gentle against it and Regina almost sways with its rhythm. With a lightness to her steps she moves closer to it and spots a lone figure sitting at the edge of it. A messy blonde mane falls on her back and her feet kick at the water that bathes them. Her back is turned to Regina but her fingers are impatient, drumming against the wood. She knows her, all of her, every inch of her. Her nose scrunches up when she laughs, her hands are clumsy except when it counts, her back arches whenever it’s under Regina’s fingertips, there is scar under her chin and a burn mark on her forearm. Regina has never been more certain of anything. She steps onto the dock and doesn’t have to search her mind for her name, it just rolls of her tongue in two easy syllables.  _

 

_ “Emma.”  _

 

_ The water stills and Emma,  _ **_Emma,_ ** _ turns to face her. Sweet green eyes look up at her and they are the ones she has always known. She smiles brightly and unabashedly and Regina thinks how wrong she had been to deny herself hope for so long _

  
  


* * *

 

 

_ “Regina” It feels so strong on her tongue, so right. Finally, finally, is all Emma can think. She looks up at her, in her bare feet and that smile she has seen a thousand times before but never before. There’s a stupid grin on her face, she knows and Regina moves to sit next to her. “You found me.” It’s like Emma isn’t big enough to hold everything she’s feeling. Shit. _

 

_ “I did,” She replies and tangles her fingers in a lock of Emma’s hair. They just fit in this weird sort of way, make a perfect kind of sense. She loved her here, she loved her now, she had always loved her. This was the simplest fucking truth. Regina hand moved to trace a circle above Emma’s heart, and she remembers once telling her in this place “that’s you, that’s us.” That same moment seems to be washing over Regina because she says “Of course I did.”  _

 

_ This time it’s so different, words don’t vanish from her damn memory as soon as they’re said and damn it it’s like some door just opened in her mind’s eye. Everything she thought she knew seems so small now, like when she learned that the Earth was nothing more than a pale blue dot in the whole universe. She leans toward her, because there is this fucking magnetic pull they both have and their lips meet. This is what people mean when they used words like revelation and fuck. With Regina’s teeth grazing her lower lip, Emma knows what it’s like to be caught in a wild fire and to stand in the rain after a drought. Regina pulls her to her, and they tumble over, bodies pressed together. And then she feels it, both their hearts beating together. _

 

_ Emma stops and gazes down at her, her hands at the side of her head, and she sees years of secrets and things buried down, deep down within themselves finally being released.  And all she can say is “God, look at you. Fuck.” And the way she grins, all fire, makes Emma remember that she belongs here, that here she is loved. She might explode from all that she feels and Emma mumbles this against Regina’s skin. She hums in response and breathes out that she knows, that she feels it too, burning all through her. Years, it’s been years, Regina tells Emma, they feel like a thousand. It’s been too fucking long she agrees and they both cry through their smiles. The salt stings her lips where Regina had claimed them and the whole of her fucking shakes when her nails run down her back. Is this what it feels like to be Queen she asks her and Regina’s eyes widen. No, never. Crowns are ugly and heavy on your head, she breathes out. Crowns don’t fit, and make you ache in all the wrong ways. This is what it was like to be a goddess, to create and love through sheer will. Emma isn’t ashamed to say she loves her, that she’d fucking worship her and she laughs and kisses her. I’ve loved you for so long, Regina says, I would have burned the whole world to find you. And Emma knows, Emma remembers.  _

 

_ “We need to go back, don’t we?” Emma holds on to her like Regina might slip through her fingers again, like darkness will come swallow her again.  _

 

_ “We do. It’s past time we did,” She presses her lips to Emma’s neck. “Things have come full circle.” And they’re both all smiles, fucking ridiculous and beautiful all in one.  _

 

Emma’s eyes fly open and experience tells her that she should be running for the bathroom now. But she doesn’t, because she feels put together. Complete, even if her breathing is hard and her skin is gross and clammy. With a thud her great great great whatever’s sword falls to the floor. She sits up on the mattress that is too soft to be hers and groans as her eyes adjust to light coming from the ceiling lamp. 

 

“Ma! You’re back!” Henry practically tackles back onto the mattress. 

 

“Hey, kid. Glad to see you too.” She says not really registering all this enthusiasm. Shit, how long had she been out? 

 

“Henry, don’t crowd your mother.” Regina orders from somewhere in the room. 

 

“Mom!” And he jumps off the bed to rush to her side.”I knew you’d do it!” There’s something she hasn’t learned she realizes when she looks at them. Henry’s helping her up and there’s just so much admiration in his eyes, the way Emma had always wanted him to see her. Fuck, she loves her so much. And there she is, almost out of breath, glowing with sweat and barely dressed. And Emma knows her name, remembers her face and has every fucking inch of her memorized. It’s Regina. 

 

“Hi.” Is all Emma can manage from her place on her bed. 

 

“Hi.” Regina says leaning on their son for support and her brown eyes locking with hers. The way her lips part and curl tells Emma that she also knows in her bones that it’s really her. This is real, this who they are and who they’ve always been. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd FINALLY end something on a good note (I just want Regina to be happy OK. Canon is the WORST). Yes, All Night was playing on repeat when I wrote this.   
>  Also thanks so much for reading, comments, and kudos! I'm always so pleased to see others enjoying something that is actually very personal. I'm beyond thrilled others could connect to it as well.


	16. Relativity and Soap Foam

It’s late into the night, or rather, early in the morning. If there were a rooster in the vicinity, Regina muses, he’d be crowing soon. Her eyes can barely make out the shapes in the dark, the built-in shelves, the coffee table; the house is quiet except for Henry’s gentle snores and a sleeping Emma’s mumbling. They’d fallen asleep in a knot of bodies, she realizes now, feeling Henry’s head on her stomach and through the darkness Regina can see his ever-stretching legs and feet lying somewhere on Emma’s lap. The better part of the night had been indulgent, their dirty dishes are still on the coffee-table she’s sure. Her body is tender, but it feels more like content exhaustion. Endorphins, that’s what any doctor would make responsible. Looking at Emma, _Emma_ she had to remind herself, Regina had known she felt the same delicious weakness in her knees. She isn’t accustomed to it feeling so innocuous on her body, to not have a fever invade her and be confined to her bed for several days. It is a new feeling; this muscle ache and easy breathing is different. It’s welcomed. Henry had interpreted their tired eyes as them needing extra care; blankets and pizza with black olives on it from the only place in town open so late. He had so many questions and all Regina could do when pondering the answers was look at Emma and find her gaze already locked onto her. They had smiled, and smiled trying to think of proper words without revealing more than they should.

 

“Does this mean you’re soulmates?” He had looked at Regina and then at Emma when he’d asked. They had told  him that they had met before many years ago, through what Emma had called not-dreams-dreams and Regina had known to be soul separations. But they hadn’t been sure before tonight, there had only had suspicions and hope.

 

“Yes.”

 

“No,” Regina had answered just as soon as Emma had. “Well, not exactly.” Henry and Emma had been wearing an identical expression of confusion on their faces. “Soul mates, they’re predestined, right?”

 

“Yes.” He had said carefully while Emma had just watched her with a flash of fear in her eyes.

 

“There’s no choice in the matter. Fate decides for you.” Regina might have said that with a hint of bitterness, because of everything the fates had put her through. Because of everything in her life that had seemed to be preordained and inescapable. After all they had taken from her. “In this case, I believe, we had a choice.”

 

“You chose to go after Ma.” He had voiced her feelings and had turned to Emma grinning as if to check if she was catching on. “Even when you didn’t know if Ma was…”

 

“It didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t care. I couldn’t.” Regina had replied quickly, the many walls that had been enclosing her for so long had been smashed.

 

“Yeah, that kicks soulmates’ ass.” Emma had let out a breathy laugh and wiped an unruly tear away from her eye before it could run down her face.

 

Henry had been so curious wanting to unpack everything, pinpoint exactly how all this came about. He had talked about magic and science together, using one to understand the other. He had pulled out several dozen storylines from comic books and imagined so many worlds for them. Emma had ruffled his hair and said that maybe he should change his name to Mr. Jane Foster. He had looked to Regina for support, and never having the heart to refuse him, she had offered him her own thoughts. Half-formed, they had been, and still are, but they both had followed her words with such care. Regina had repeated some of Tibiche’s words, about time and how it all exists thrown together. Past, present, future, all happening at the same time, how everyone is all their selves all at once. And maybe, just maybe, she and Emma had created that place for their souls the second Regina had decided to find her. Time stretches in all dimensions, so perhaps that place hadn’t existed until today. It had spanned across realms, that was for sure. And she had seen Henry’’s eyes light up and Emma’s cheeks flush when they both had remembered the only thing capable of crossing realms with such ease. Regina still doesn’t know if those had been the right answers, but she doesn’t care. The how and they why are only secondary to the fact, and looking at Emma in this darkness, she knows it’s not important. They’re here now, at last. No half-remembered memories, no words that escape her and lie forgotten and spread out through time. They’re here,tangled in a mess of arms and legs and everything is theirs.

                                                                                                   ----------------------------

They keep meaning to steal moments during the days, but all she and Emma had managed so far was sparing furtive glances at each other. Fingers grazing hands, and smiles that know too much. Snow and Charming hover over Emma once they learn about the incident in the woods, and they say nothing about what had brought her back. There seems to have a tacit agreement to keep it a secret, to continue to guard as it had been for so many years. Instead of lazy hours spent together, testing this newly discovered and old intimacy, they listen to her parents talk over breakfast, take calls from the office and station outside and apologize for being late. She wonders how much longer they’ll be able to keep this up, how much longer until they go out of their minds..

 

“Tonight,” Emma says as she stays behind for her at Granny’s. Regina feels her eyebrow arching in mock disbelief. “I mean it. Kid’s going to a sleepover.”

 

“Hmm,” Regina hums in agreement and brushes her hand briefly. “Run along now, you wouldn’t want to be late.”

 

“I think the Sheriff wouldn’t mind it.” She grins and it’s so open that Regina feels how free her own heart beats inside her chest.

 

“But the Mayor would.” Regina tries to keep her lips from curling but it’s a losing battle.

 

“Nah, I have it on good authority she has a soft spot for me.”

 

“I’d check my sources if I were you, Sheriff.”

 

Emma shakes her head. “Tonight.” She repeats and locks her eyes with Regina’s before leaving.

The way the day drags after that reminds her of what little she knows of relativity. A word, just like that, had been capable of making the clock tick slower and make everyone overstay their welcome in her office. Relativity irritates her, Regina finds. It gnaws at her, makes her stomach flip,has her shaking her pen between her knuckles, and her knee bouncing behind her desk. Count on Emma, _Emma_ , to do this to her. Regina had never been one for patience and waiting, but these sluggish hours were truly testing her limits. But she doesn’t move to act on the situation, she still has some sort of semblance of her pride and simply cannot cave in. Instead she blows air through her nose, is more curt than usual, and has a glass of wine with her lunch. She had waited decades for Emma, what is one more day? Excruciating.

 

At the end of the day Regina packs her briefcase like a maniac and leaves in a swirl of purple. She busies herself in the kitchen, chopping onions, crushing garlic, searing meat. All scents and sounds that distract from the deep want that is threatening to undo her. And she laughs, a deep throaty laugh, because she had never counted that this would be the way a princess would undo her. Never in a thousand years could she have concluded that this is what that old prophecy had foretold. Though Regina is not sure that it was meant to foretell one single thing. Now she scoffs  because she remembers a line from an overrated book.“The universe conspires in the favor of dreamers.” Complicit in the fulfilling of their wishes. It had never applied to her, and she refuses to see as a cosmic truth. In every way possible, she had been responsible for her path in life. Even if the fates had enclosed their hands around her, had set her middle and end, she had chosen the road to reach them. As terrible and horrifying as it had been, that’s what she had done. Perhaps Regina would always be learning to be at peace with it, always seeking a happy middle between a roaring wildfire and numbness, but it’s easier now. That place is attainable, now with Emma.

 

 _Emma_ , just where the hell is she? Tonight she had said, as if that implied a time and place. Of course it was the one thing she hadn’t caught at the time. Let Emma have her airs of mystery. Regina supposes that she needs every shred of it, now that they have been so exposed. Their old games should not be abandoned so completely. They should always be all of their selves, as time dictated. Anything less than being all they had been, everything they had always been and still are, would be a crime. So, Regina thinks, that this infuriating need she feels and Emma with her tardiness and poor attempt at mystery, are a good thing. A sign that all is as it should be.

 

The front door is opened too loudly and there are clumsy steps on her hardwood floors. That’s how Regina knows that the wait is over.

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe she’s a little nervous, it’s why the door had swung out of her grasp instead of it discretely cracking open. It’s why her steps sound like a baby elephant’s, and well shit. All that bravado she had managed to show at Granny’s this morning has gone out the fucking window. So much for keeping her cool exterior, Emma thinks. She’s sure Regina’s heard her less than spectacular entrance and at least she got the good wine Regina likes before coming over. Emma would be lying if she hadn’t congratulated herself over her self-control today; she had said “tonight” like an idiot. It might have been her worst idea yet. She had spent the whole day fidgeting and pulling her phone out of her pocket just to put back in again. But there had been paperwork to be filed and she had already set her plan. Stupid. Gone and fucked herself over is what she had done. A whole slow work day with the promise of Regina at the end of it; that’d drive anyone insane. Emma had practically been jumping out of her skin the whole day.

 

Taking slow and deliberate steps towards the kitchen, where her nose is directing her, Emma realizes that she’s never done this before. They’ve never done this before, not separately, not together. There had never been a time in her life when she had walked on hardwood floors with a wine bottle in her hand and a dumb grin on her face. She must definitely had never had keys to a house where she did not live, not officially anyway, and Emma had never had a someone like this. Not really. There had been Neal, but it had not been _this_. It couldn’t even begin to compare. This is an amazing certainty, it’s belonging and safety, and it's a tight and perfect fit. Fuck, Regina really is the answer to a question she had never thought to ask. She pushes the kitchen door open and sees Regina checking the oven, as if she hadn’t heard her come in. She’s keeping up their game, and Emma appreciates it. She loves her raised brow and comebacks that only pretend to have a bite. No, they couldn’t lose that. Even if they had been just so…,she can’t even think of the word, with each other even before they met. Talk about mindfucks.

 

Regina’s eyes turn to her, scan her face and then look down to the hand that’s holding the bottle. Emma can tell that she’s also thinking that this is new and maybe a little fucking weird. They’ve drunk together sure, their souls had been together in some not-dream place, but they’ve never been all their selves like this. Not ever. It’s comforting to know that she isn’t alone in this, that she’s not the only one trying to figure it out. Like she doesn’t need to catch up, because they’re both here, in this same place. This place that’s finally solid and real.

 

“Hey..I...um, ” Emma’s brain won’t pick the right words. “Hey.” She breathes out when she sees Regina pressing her lips together, hiding a smile.

 

“You’re late.” She smirks as she takes the bottle away from her, like she’s been keeping score in her head and she’s winning.

 

“Not possible. Can’t be late if I never set a time.” And this time it’s Emma’s turn for a smug smile. Regina rolls her eyes, and now she knows that it’s done with so much love. Fuck, it’s enough to melt her all over again.

 

“Am I meant to believe that you were being intentionally cryptic instead of just unorganized?” Regina asks and it’s all just the kind of fire that warms you but will never scorch you.

 

“Yes?” Emma shrugs her shoulders and she knows she looks like an idiot because Regina is giving her one of her funny looks. It just makes her bare more teeth and duck her head.

 

They stay in the kitchen and Emma tries to sneak food off Regina’s which serves no purpose other than to brush her hands with Regina’s. She had glared and said that there’s more of that on the stove but whatever. Regina’s not fooling anyone. Emma knows because she can feel this hum of energy from her, apples, cinnamon, and coal, and she can’t call it anything other than harmony. No one’s felt this way before, she’s fucking sure, even if true love had been more of an Enchanted Forest thing. But they can’t really know, how could they? How could she even begin to explain to anyone when she’s just beginning to wrap her head around it? Emma’s soul had left her fucking body and found Regina’s over the years, across time and realms. Had leapt out because Regina had called for her, and because in the future, now the past, Regina had gone after her, consequences be damned. If there was anything that fit the definitions of indescribable and complicated, this was it. Her parents are the poster children for true love and she doesn’t think that even they, with their half heart, would understand. And this is just all kinds of fucking wonderful. Because this...this is only theirs, only they know it. Only they can speak of it. Emma loves, just loves with all who she is. She breathes in and out as she looks at Regina, who has a shine to her dark eyes and glow to her skin, and oh my fucking God.

 

It’s not until that Emma’s drying their plates and Regina’s hands are wet and busy that she moves to kiss her. Because shit. Enough is enough. And she isn’t sure that this counts as a first time and Regina’s lips on hers feel like they belong. Right, right, right is what her brain is shouting at the top of its lungs. Regina’s hands move to her hair and Emma feels soap foam on its strands and she can’t help but smile against Regina’s lips. Just like she can’t suppress the laugh in her throat when she feels Regina bite on her lower lip. Because of course she does, Emma had known it for so long. Or is she just discovering it? Fuck. Her brain is already already all over the place with Regina doing things to her, she doesn’t need to try and find the logic behind time and soul separations just now. So when they break apart and Regina just knows, Emma can tell, that she’ll follow without another word. She takes Emma’s hands in hers and she is smiling so damn pleased with herself, as she leads them upstairs, and it’s only right. Because her heart is about to beat the fuck out of her chest.

 

Regina is hard in all the right places, soft where she wants her to be. She’s sharp angles and taut skin, that Emma thinks must be fucking supernatural in nature. And it’s so strange, to be running her fingers past her breasts and for her long hair to be tickling her cheeks because the tip of her fingers detect the newness of Regina but something inside her moves. Her soul Emma guesses, and tells her that this is all familiar. It’s all natural and ancient history, written in a language only they can speak. Her heart beats in recognition of its equal. Regina curses in Spanish and Emma replies and gets lost in the way her eyes widen in surprise; suddenly remembering that Emma understands her and that they’ve somehow managed to built a shared world through choice and accident. Her taste is home, it’s sweet and there’s nothing like it out in the world. Emma collapses on top of her when they’re both limp and shiny with sweat. Her face is pressed against Regina’s stomach and she’s too happy to feel the tired rise and fall of her breathing against her cheeks. It’s all the things she never knew she wanted, everything she had always been too fucking afraid to wish for and let herself ask. It’s all the times she had cried without understanding why, it’s that void she had felt but could never fill. It’s the things that had been so fucking amiss over the years. It’s that missing piece. It’s too much. It’s everything.

 

With Regina’s fingers rubbing smooth circles on her scalp Emma remembers brown slush and a woman wearing a sunhat on a winter’s night and she chuckles with her eyes closed.

 

“What’s so funny, dear?” Regina asks and she sounds just as drained as Emma feels.

 

“I was just remembering this one time I got drunk off my ass.” Her mind is quickly making all the necessary connections but her mouth can’t keep up. 

 

“That’s a nice sentiment.” She replies dryly and her hand stilling in her hair.

 

“It’s not...it was Henry’s fourth birthday.” Emma feels Regina grow stiff under her, not in fear, but in empathy. Maybe guilt. “Back before I had my life together, I used to drink on his birthday. And that night I was kicked out of a bar.”

 

“Hmm” Is all she says in encouragement for her to continue.

 

“I was too drunk to get in my car and drive away. So I sat on bench, and it was fucking freezing. But there’s was this old lady on it. Had sunglasses on and like two coats.I thought she was crazy. She was some sort of psychic, or that’s what she said. Whatever. She told me Henry had someone, that I shouldn’t worry about him.”

 

“Intuitive.” Regina sounds unsure as to where this is going.

 

“I’d forgotten about this until now, “ Emma swallows with memories flashing through her mind. “She said one day I’d have everything I ever wanted,” And then she looks up at Regina and remembers that she had also promised something else. She’d been promised someone, someone like Regina before the curse broke. _Regina_. “And here’s the crazy part. She told me that one day I’d meet a queen. Beautiful, angry, sad...but” And then she feels something being born in the pit of Regina’s stomach until it erupts into a full and uncontrollable laughter. Emma can only frown in confusion.

 

“Hey, I was trying to have a moment here.” Emma tells her while her eyes narrow.

 

“I know.I’m sorry.” She tries to simmer down and traces the outline of Emma’s jaw. “It’s just you’re not alone in this. I was promised a princess a long time ago.”

 

* * *

 

 

Emma’s chin lies on her hip, strands of hair are sticking to her forehead and her eyes are fighting sleep. Still, she urges her on. Emma had snorted when she had referred to her as a princess; it was almost a reflex of hers to try and shed the title. But she wants Regina to tell her about the prophecy she had heard so many years ago all the same. Despite herself, and in spite that they’re already lying in bed together with their naked skins touching, Regina blushes. Her hand returns to thread her disheveled blonde locks and she goes back to the beginning. To Regina riding on Rocinante’s back to a shack in the woods, desperate to escape her marriage. Emma tenses up at the mention of the King but says nothing. She tells her about Tibiche, and her grey braid and the cracks around eyes, about the way she had held her hand for what seemed like hours and then had looked at her and told her that she’d love again. So fiercely that she would burn and feel like she be would consumed but that there would come a princess and undo her. Regina says that it though it became her obsession, always worrying about her downfall, she never thought that they two parts of the prophecy would be connected.

 

She had imagined it referred to separate people, and in truth it had. It had been about Snow, and a faceless woman, then about Henry and the Savior, finally it had been about Emma. Except only she had managed to embody the prophecy its entirety, and Regina hadn’t known until it was too late. Too late to save anyone, most of all herself.  At that Emma had buried her nose into her navel, suddenly overwhelmed, Regina knows. But she can’t keep herself from saying the words, from telling her that all her horrifying sins had been motivated by that prophecy. By her desire to be free, to be safe,and to love again. Regina repeats what she had already told Emma in that place, that she would have burned down the whole world to find her. But it’s different now, she says with her voice growing quieter, this feels like peace. The fire still burns, but not to scorch the Earth. It burns because it’s alive.

 

Emma is silent and something small, but still present inside her, is afraid for a few seconds. Then she feels Emma kissing her skin and Regina can breathe again. There had only been one time she had remembered about what the old woman in the sunhat and two coats had told her, she tells Regina, her voice raspy with exhaustion. She had laughed it off, the notion of beautiful queen in her future, and that had been the last time she ever gave it any thought. But then Emma says, that it now seemed to her that she had been meeting shadows of Regina throughout her entire life. There had always been something about people she had gravitated towards, but it had never been right. All of them had been fragments, never a complete picture. She should have known, Emma mumbles and Regina feels her teeth, ever gentle, just beneath her ribs. It should have been obvious from the moment she first saw her, but she had been so blind. She’d been an idiot and to this Regina agrees and calls Emma hers. Yours, yours Emma echoes as she moves up her body to finally claim her lips with hers.

 

“What does this all mean, then?” Emma asks now settled at the base of Regina’s neck. “You built your life around a prophecy and I never thought of mine.”

 

“I don’t know,” Regina breathes her in, the sweat and sex, the barely there hints of the maple and coffee of her magic. “Life will always get its way, I suppose.” The words sound hollow and they come up short.

 

“That’s a crock of shit and you know it,” She says, her lips move lazily against her neck. But it doesn’t really matter, right?” Emma sounds like she’s never been so convinced of anything in her life.

 

“No. It doesn’t.” Feeling Emma’s heart beating in sync with hers, her breath warm on her skin, Regina knows that it doesn’t make a difference how they ended up here tonight.

 

“Fuck prophecies.” Emma mumbles, already drifting off to sleep. Regina kisses her hair and chooses to follow her. It’s all that matters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I actually finished something! Thanks so much for reading, this story has meant a lot to me. So yeah, I'm really grateful to anyone who's read it.

**Author's Note:**

> This AU was born out of the desire to correct many things in canon and bring Regina's cultural and racial heritage to the forefront, using common latinx people face like colorism and classicism. Because the show-runners obviously don't understand the community they attempted to very superficially use for their story. Wanted to give Regina more agency and remove some of the manipulations that took it from her. Also, fuck canon.


End file.
